


The Curse of the Black Roger

by snidgetsafan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-06-08 09:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15240900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snidgetsafan/pseuds/snidgetsafan
Summary: “You should start believing in ghost stories, Miss Swan – because you’re in one.”When young Princess Emma found a pirate necklace on the baby rescued from the sea, she never expected years later to be swept into an adventure worthy of her favorite novels.And she certainly never expected someone like the legendary Captain Hook.A “Pirates of the Carribean” AU





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Back in January, I got inspired by [ this pic set ](http://amorecolorfulmoniker.tumblr.com/post/147824569342/you-dont-know-what-this-is-do-ya-agrabah-gold) by amorecolorfulmoniker on Tumblr.  
> Six months later, here we are with 14 chapters (for the moment!) and a whole new world.  
> Thank you to my betas, Kit and Devon, your help has been and is still so precious!  
> Thank you also to [Molly](http://slow-smiles.tumblr.com), who made incredible manips for this fic, which you will see as chapters progress.

_ “Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me…” _

Emma leant on the railing at the bow of the  _ Pride of Amphitrite _ , her gaze lost in the dense mist surrounding the ship while she hummed dreamily. This was her first trip abroad, and she had enjoyed it immensely, despite the circumstances in which she had taken the journey. She had spent her time on the ship observing the men working, exploring the deck and hold, and trying to spot dolphins in the water below. Now, on the last day of their return trip, she was trying to take advantage of their last hours at sea to feel the spray on her face and smell the salt in the breeze.

Her mother, Queen Ruth of Misthaven, and she were making their way back from her uncle and aunt’s memorial, which had taken place the week before. Her mother had been sad, because Aunt Gerda had been her sister, but Emma hadn’t known her very well. She had only met Aunt Gerda once, when they had gone to Arendelle to see her cousin Anna, who had just been born. However, she had tried to help her mother, by being well-behaved and entertaining her cousins, even if Elsa had refused to come out of her room. The young princess had missed her brother and father while she was gone, but David had come down with chickenpox three days before leaving, and he’d had to stay in bed, with their father taking care of him.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her. “You shouldn’t be singing that song, your Highness, that’s bad luck,” Manley, one of the sailors, gruffly told her when she turned around. “That sort of song is calling for trouble, is what it is. Almost as bad as whistling, that damn song is.”

“I would thank you, Mister Manley, to watch your language around the Princess,” a disapproving voice told Emma’s interlocutor before she could answer. Grumbling into his red neck scarf about not needing any bad luck in this pea soup, the stocky sailor walked away as she looked behind her, seeing her mother and the  _ Pride _ ’s captain approaching. When they had come to within a few feet of her, the captain bowed to her, and continued, “While his language was quite inappropriate, he was right, your Highness. That song makes sailors nervous, and pirates are not to be admired.”

Clasping her hands tightly, Emma told him, “I think it would be quite exciting to meet a pirate.”

Her mother frowned while the captain smiled briefly. “Think again, your Highness. They are vile and vicious creatures, who thrive on the misery of others, and who have never worked a day of honest work in their lives. I’ll make sure any man or woman found convicted of piracy gets what they deserve: a short drop and a sudden stop.”

Emma gasped when she understood his meaning, as her mother hurried to her side and held her shoulders. “I’m not sure this is appropriate talk for a ten year old girl, Captain Cassidy.”

The man lowered his eyes, and then bowed to his Queen. “You are right, your Majesty. Please accept my apologies, it won’t happen again.” He turned to look at Emma. “I am sorry if I have shocked you, Princess, it was not my intention.” And with another bow, he was gone, making his way towards the stern.

Emma turned towards her mother, dislodging the Queen’s hands from her shoulders. “Actually I find all of this fascinating.”

“Yes, that’s what concerns me,” the Queen told her drily, raising her eyebrows. “A young lady should not find pirates fascinating or exciting. And she definitely should not know pirate shanties, nor should she sing them in public. Now, try to behave, sweetheart, we are almost home.”

“Yes, Mama,” Emma answered quietly, as Ruth turned to follow Captain Cassidy. She didn’t understand why her mother was so adamant she stop being interested in pirates. She knew, objectively, that they were dangerous outlaws. But they also lived a life full of adventure, sailing the Seven Seas and going where they wanted. What was not to like about that way of life? She had read every book on pirates she could find in the castle’s library, dreaming between her lessons of boarding enemy ships, taking their cargo and sailing towards the horizon with her crew, or battling legendary creatures to seize their treasures. 

Emma had loved traveling on the  _ Pride _ , feeling the wind and the sun on her skin and getting used to the gentle sway of the deck below her feet. Briggs, the ship’s quartermaster, had even taught her a few things, such as the difference between port and starboard and what the different parts of a ship were called. The princess had even learned how to knot what was called a “bowline” this very morning. The young girl also knew that the ship she was sailing on was called a ship of the line, and that it was the flagship of her father’s Navy.

Emma pondered all of this as she silently resumed her place at the railing, fiddling with the cord she had been practicing with all day and looking down at the mist hanging over the ocean, which looked black in the dim light. The monotony of the sight, however, was soon broken when an object came floating out of the fog. Emma squinted, trying to discern what it could be. She was surprised to find it was an umbrella, floating on its back. She looked at it, smiling slightly as it passed her, wondering how such an ordinary object had found its way here. Had it fallen off a passenger ship, a sudden gust of wind having ripped it off a lady’s hand? Or had it come all the way from the land? They were not far from Misthaven, after all…

Movement in the periphery of her vision made her turn her head, as another object floated towards her. A wicker basket bobbed on the waves not far from the ship, and came to within a few yards of where Emma stood, allowing her to see the basket was not empty, that some sort of fabric filled it. Her smile faded, as she wondered at the probability of two objects floating near the  _ Pride _ , when there hadn’t been anything for days. 

The young princess frowned suddenly, as she thought she heard a faint sound coming from the sea. Listening carefully, she leant over the railing, and heard it again, clearer this time. It sounded like an infant crying. Where was it coming from? Emma heard it a third time, and saw at the same time the fabric inside the basket move, as it began to sway harder on the waves. Her eyes widening in horror, she turned frantically as she shouted at the sailors surrounding her, “Help! There’s a baby in the water!”

At first, the men looked at her curiously, sure they had misheard. But once she repeated herself, yelling even louder, Manley, who hadn’t wandered far from her, hurried to the railing, and looked at where Emma was pointing. Thankfully, the baby cried again at that exact moment, and, with no hesitation, he started removing his jacket while calling out “Man overboard!... Well, a miniature one!” before diving off the side of the ship. The deck erupted into chaos as men burst into action, running towards where he had jumped, some readying ropes to haul them back on deck. Emma clutched the railing, leaning over to see better. Manley swam to the basket, clutching it to his chest after he had checked what was inside. Swimming one handedly back to the ship, he grabbed one of the ropes that had been thrown to him, and tied the basket by its handles. As men started to carefully haul the basket on board, making sure not to jostle it and drop its precious cargo, Manley gripped the other rope and began to climb the side of the ship, keeping level with his charge. 

When she saw they both were about to reach the deck, she tried to get closer, but the men were so tightly packed around the sailors lifting it that she could not even get a glimpse of the basket. Her mother and Cassidy’s arrival granted her an opportunity to get closer, as the crew parted to let their captain and their Queen approach, but before she could follow them, she heard a nearby sailor swear profusely under his breath.

Following his gaze, she saw the burning remains of a large ship emerging from the fog, the flames rising from its broken hull coloring the surrounding mist in red at it slowly sunk under the waves. Black smoke mixed with white mist, creating a crimson halo around the wreck that seemed to have a life of its own. A change in the wind brought the smell of burning wood to Emma’s nose. The smell also attracted the attention of the group surrounding the basket, and activity once again erupted on the deck. 

Emma’s mother walked quickly towards her, and guided her with a hand on her back towards the basket, which she could now see clearly. “Emma, the baby’s in your charge, take it to the Captain’s cabin. I will join you in a few minutes.” Her mother looked quickly behind her, eyeing the gathered group of muttering sailors, before forcing a smile on her face. “Take care of him, sweetheart.” She gestured urgently to a cabin boy, holding a short conversation with him, before allowing him to lift the basket. In a louder voice, she finished giving her instructions to Emma, turning her towards the rear of the ship and giving her a small push to propel her forward, “Make sure the baby is warm and dry, and stay with it.”

Emma followed the cabin boy, opening the door for him and watching him put the basket down on a bench before leaving the room. She closed the door behind him, turning to approach the now silent basket. She peeked over the edge, where two curious brown eyes were gazing at her. The fabric she had spotted while on deck was a woollen blanket, embroidered with little swans on its edges. There appeared to be nothing else in the basket, which was slowly dripping on the bench. 

Remembering her mother’s instructions, she carefully slipped her hands between the wickerwork and the blanket, feeling for any wetness. When she found none, she lifted the baby gingerly, making sure to support its head like she had seen midwives do at the castle. Once the baby was secured in her arms, she moved the blanket away from its face. “Don’t worry, you’re safe now,” she said in a soothing voice. A little fist was clutching a corner or the blanket, and Emma gently pried it away, seeing that a word was embroidered there. “Henry”, she read aloud, looking down into the little face. “Hello Henry, my name is Emma, and you’re on the  _ Pride of Amphitrite _ , the best ship on the Seven Seas. You’re safe now.” She lightly bounced him as she walked around the cabin, stopping in front of a window. As she raised her eyes, she saw something glinting in the light. Tugging, she saw it was a golden chain with a heavy pendant at its end. She gasped when she saw the grinning skull engraved in the center. Looking back at Henry, she whispered “You’re a pirate!” She stared in wonder at the necklace. How did a baby end up on a pirate ship? Was he the son of one of the crew? Her wonder turned to worry as she remembered the Captain’s words. Surely he would not harm a baby?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door handle turning. Not thinking, Emma shoved the necklace down the bodice of her dress, hoping the thick cotton would hide the strange bump in the middle of her flat chest, before turning and plastering an innocent smile on her face. Her mother stepped through the threshold, blocking the view of the deck. “How’s the baby?”

“He’s fine, Mom.”, Emma answered hurriedly.

“He? Is it a boy then?”

“Yes, his name is Henry, it’s embroidered on his blanket. Here, look.”

The Queen approached and leaned over Emma and the baby. “You’re right, and what a beautiful blanket it is,” she said, fingering the fabric. “Hello, little Henry, it looks like you were the only one lucky enough to survive.” 

Emma looked at her mother, digesting her words. No one had survived the shipwreck? A shiver went down her spine. “What happened, Mom? Why did the ship explode?”

Raising her eyes from where she was stroking Henry’s face with her finger, Ruth looked at her gravely, pondering her words. “It seems the ship’s powder reserves exploded. We don’t know why yet.”

Emma looked intently at her mother. The princess had always been able to detect when someone was lying, and while her mother was not telling Emma an outright lie, the queen was not being entirely truthful. What was her mother hiding? Emma could see however she would not be able to get a straight answer from the woman if she pressed the issue now, and decided to drop the subject for the moment. Looking down at Henry, she wondered aloud, “Then what is going to happen to him? If he has no family, who is going to take care of him? Don’t we have a responsibility towards him?”

Ruth looked at her daughter, a fond smile on her lips. “You’re right, darling, we can’t abandon him. You found him; he is our family’s responsibility now. We will take him in at the castle as a royal ward, and we will place him with one of the nurses.” Tucking Emma’s hair behind her shoulder, the Queen continued, as she prepared to leave. “And as his savior, your first mission will be to find your charge a last name. Do you feel up to this task?”

Emma nodded, glad Henry would be taken care of. She would make sure he got everything he needed. The princess had barely known him for an hour, but she already felt an attachment to the little boy she could not explain. Looking down at him, the girl again approached the window, wondering what name to give the infant. Emma had to be careful in her choice - it would follow him his whole life. Henry chose that moment to wave his arms, making the blanket fall away from his torso. As Emma tucked him back in it, she rubbed one of the embroidered swans thoughtfully. Could it be this simple? Looking back into his eyes, the young girl tried it aloud: “Henry Swan,” she said. If the fact that it felt right to call him that had not convinced her, Henry’s shriek of delight would have done the job. Smiling, Emma told him “Welcome to Misthaven, Henry Swan.”

However, her joy was short-lived, as she remembered the medallion hidden in her bodice, which had been slowly slipping down her dress all this time, only being stopped on its descent by Henry’s body being pressed close to her own.  Should she tell her mother what she had found out? Would her mother be as benevolent towards Henry if she knew his true heritage? Emma was afraid she would send the little boy to a family outside the castle, where she would not be able to see him. It made her decision easy: she would protect Henry and his secret from her mother and the Captain by hiding the medallion, so they would never know his true heritage, and he wouldn’t be taken from her. All the pirates on that ship were gone, no one would be the wiser. Taking out the medallion, she raised it in the light, looking at the symbols engraved on it. Before she could try to decipher them, or at least understand in what language they were, movement outside the window caught her eye, and she looked up.

She gasped, clutching Henry to her. The mist had parted for a moment, and Emma could see a dark shape sailing away from the  _ Pride _ . It was a ship, or at least it looked like the ghostly remains of a ship. Its black sails were ripped in several places, and a large hole on the starboard side of its hull gaped just above the water line. Its skeletal appearance should have made it impossible for the specter to float, even less sail as fast as it did, but it swiftly cut through the water as if pulled by the god of the seas himself. It looked as if it were out of this world, and a shiver went down Emma’s spine. The last thing she saw before the fog swallowed the vision was its flag, a white grinning skull on a black background.  _ Pirates _ ! Emma thought wildly, pressing herself to the window, making sure not to crush Henry. But the ship had already disappeared, as if it had never existed. 


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my two betas, Kit and Devon! 
> 
> And please go and see the [art](http://slow-smiles.tumblr.com/post/175804640267/the-curse-of-the-black-rodger-by-snidgetsafan) Molly made for my fic, it's fantastic!

_ The last thing she saw before the fog swallowed the vision was its flag, a white grinning skull on a black background.  _ Pirates! _ Emma thought wildly, pressing herself to the window. But the ship had already disappeared, as if it had never existed.  _

 

Emma startled awake, her eyes jerking open. A dream, it had only been a dream, even if it had been a long time since she had experienced that particular one. When she was younger, it taunted her almost every night. It followed what had happened the day they had found Henry, right after her mother left the cabin. The day’s emotions had finally caught up to her, and she had imagined a ghostly pirate ship in the fog. 

She had run to warn her mother and Captain Cassidy, who had taken her seriously until she had started describing the ship. Her mother had gently explained to her that it was impossible for such a ship to exist, and that even if it did, someone else would have seen it, while the Captain called off the orders he had just given. Ignoring her protests, her mother had taken her back to the cabin, and had made her lie down while she watched over Emma and stroked her hair like when she was little. The familiar movement had soon lulled her to sleep, and she hadn’t woken up until they had docked in Misthaven. 

She had soon convinced herself that she must  have indeed imagined the pirate ship, and had put it to the back of her mind once she had gone back to the castle, her daily lessons and making sure Henry was well taken care of soon taking most of her time and energy. However, at night, she had always been plagued by the same dream, which always ended the same way, with the ghostly apparition fading back into the mist.

Emma drew back the drapes surrounding her bed, and sat up, her toes sinking into the plush carpet covering the floor. She walked towards her dressing table, which sat against the far wall next to the window, sat down on the seat in front of the mirror, and opened the left drawer. Pushing all her ribbons aside, she pushed on a bump on the bottom, and with a click, opened a little compartment on the side of the table, which she gently pried open.

The only thing inside the compartment was the medallion, its gleam dulled by a thick layer of dust, as she hadn't taken it out in years. She gingerly picked it up and rubbed its engraved surface with her thumb. Emma studied the jewel carefully, noticing it now fit in the palm of her hand, where before her little hand had had issues closing around it. It was heavy, with a little jump ring welded at the top so it could be put on a chain. Both sides were identical, stamped to show a grinning skull in their center, surrounded by two concentric bands. Curly symbols filled the innermost circle. Young Emma had thought they were writing but had been unable to translate them, even though they resembled writings from Agrabah, and she hadn’t wanted to show them to any of the scholars who often visited the extensive Misthaven library, not wanting to spark any uncomfortable questions. The outer circle was decorated with eight triangles spaced evenly around the circumference of the coin, and the princess was always reminded of the cardinal points when she saw them, big and ornate alternating with small and simple. The ring through which the chain passed was positioned at the point of the ornate triangle that stood just above the skull, pointing straight to the wearer’s face.

Now that she looked, the ring appeared to have been added later, the gold used for it looking slightly different. It was pretty, if one liked that sort of thing. When she was younger, she liked to imagine herself as a pirate queen, with the medallion  swinging around her neck while she fought legendary battles. Now, older, she no longer entertained such flights of fancy. She had attended too many pirate trials in recent years and heard too many tales of barbarity from their victims to continue romanticizing that kind of life.

As Henry grew up, she had often wondered if she should reveal what she had found in the blanket on that fateful day. As she became older, she realized her belief that Henry would be treated anything like a pirate had been ridiculous. He had been a baby, after all. However, she chose not to say anything, not wanting to burden him with the truth of his heritage. Maybe when he was older, she would tell him. Right now he was Henry Swan who, when his chores and lessons were done, followed her and (more surprisingly) Captain Cassidy when he was ashore.

On a whim, she lifted her eyes to the mirror, and put the chain around her neck. The medallion laid atop her nightgown, resting atop her cleavage and contrasting with the white cloth. It didn’t look bad on her. She only had a few seconds to admire herself before someone knocked on her door, and her father's voice asked her “Emma, are you awake? Are you decent?”

The young woman scrambled to hide the evidence of her activities, while shouting, “Just one minute, Papa!” She slammed the drawer and the compartment shut, and hurried to her dressing gown, which was hung on a hook between her bed and her wardrobe. Hastily putting it on, her nervousness made her fumble with the ties, while her father continued to knock, cheerfully calling out to her.

“You can come in,” Emma said, finally having wrangled her dressing gown into submission. Just before her father opened the door, a gleam caught her eye in the mirror. Looking down, she saw that in her panic, she had forgotten to put the medallion back in the compartment. As the handle turned, she grabbed it and stuffed it down her nightgown. The cold metal against her skin made her wiggle, just as her father entered, followed by her two maids, Daisy and Julia, who were both holding boxes topped with bows.

King Robert advanced towards her, smiling softly. Cupping her cheeks with his hands, he kissed her forehead, as he had done since she could remember. Drawing back, he looked at her, still smiling. “How's my duckling this morning?” he asked her softly, still holding her face.

“ I'm fine, Papa,” Emma answered, just as softly, which made her father's smile widen deepening the wrinkles at the corner of his blue eyes.

“ That's wonderful. I have something for you,” he said, motioning for the two maids to step closer.

Looking curiously at her father, she approached Julia, who was holding the largest box. Gently pulling the lid off, she gasped when she saw what was inside. A green silk gown, trimmed and embroidered in gold, was folded inside. Dropping the lid carelessly on the floor, she lifted the dress, admiring it before turning towards her mirror, putting it in front of her to see how it looked. Her father appeared behind her reflection, still smiling, his thumbs tucked into his belt. Looking at him, she smiled.” Thank you, Papa, it's gorgeous.”

“ I knew you would like it. The fabric reminded me of your eyes, as soon as I saw it.”

“ What have I done to deserve such a gift? My birthday is not for a few weeks yet,” Emma inquired in a teasing tone, turning toward the King, who ushered her towards her maids, who were now waiting by the privacy screen in the corner.

“ I know, but I couldn't wait that long to give it to you. Can't a father give a present to his daughter for no reason at all?”

At this, Emma narrowed her eyes, while Daisy untied her dressing gown and Julia opened another box, this one containing a corset. While his first sentence had sounded genuine, the second one had caused a prickle at the back of her skull. Since she could remember, Emma had been able to tell when someone was lying to her, as when someone did, she felt a tingle on the back of her head. This prickle had not been as strong as when someone outright lied to her, but it was subtler, as if…

“ You're hiding something from me,” Emma accused, peeping at her father over the side of the screen. “You're not telling me something, you know I can tell. What is really going on, Papa?”

The last thing she saw before Daisy pulled her back so Julia could put the corset around her waist was her father sighing and closing his eyes in exasperation. As Daisy started lacing her in, her father started talking, “I have decided to reward Captain Cassidy for his capture of the pirate last week. He has done tremendous work lately and has made Misthaven proud. As such, he is being promoted to Commodore this afternoon.” The King paused for an instant, and Emma closed her eyes, knowing what was coming, as her maid finished pulling the laces through the corset's eyelets. “Captain, or should I say Commodore Cassidy is a fine man, and you have been friendly for years now. Maybe you -”

“ Papa, while I appreciate the Captain’s valor, there is absolutely - oh gods - nothing between us, I assure you,” Emma said, gasping in the middle of her sentence as her maid started tightening the corset.

“ I know darling, I know. But I just wanted you to make a good impression, just in case.”

“ The only impression I'm worried about right now is the one this corset is making on my spleen,” Emma said, glaring at her maid, who shrugged, never stopping in her task.

“ I hear it's the latest fashion in the White Kingdom. The Queen herself wears this kind of… thing, apparently.”

“ Well, the Queen must not need to breathe, then. This thing is pure torture,” Emma  grumbled, as Daisy finished her task, tsking quietly about the complicated fastenings.

“ Oh Emma, do stop complaining. You just need to get used to wearing it, and you'll see. You'll be just fine. Anyway, I'm leaving you in the care of your maids now, the council is waiting for me. The ceremony starts in two hours, please be on time with David,” concluded the King, before leaving Emma's rooms.

 

A while later, Emma slowly went down the stairs near the Great Hall, mindful of her skirts, and her spine stiff. Her brother was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps, pacing the floor, lost in thoughts. 

“ Careful there, you're going to wear a groove in the carpet, and Granny will have your hide,” the princess said, smiling. David swirled around, clearly not having heard her approach. As this was highly unusual for him, Emma took a closer look at his face. His brow was furrowed, and he kept rubbing his chin, just like he did when he was a child and could not figure something out in one of their classes.

“ Huh? Oh yeah, yeah, Granny, sure,” he said distractedly, before rubbing his chin again. “You look lovely, by the way,” he finished with an absent-minded wave of his hand towards her outfit.

“ Okay, that's enough. What's going on?” Before her brother could try to deny the obvious, she quickly added, “And don't tell me it's nothing, I know it's not.”

“ It's not …..nothing, obviously, it's just a little...” at his sister's glare, he raised his hand, silently asking for her to let him continue, “it's just… I have this weird feeling. This morning I couldn't find my silver clasp, the dragon one Papa got me, and it looks like some of my things were moved. I'm also pretty sure I had locked the door before I went to the village yesterday, but this morning it wasn't.”

“ Do you think a thief came into your room?”

“ No, I don't know. My signet ring is more valuable than the clasp, and yet it's still there, despite being clearly visible on my desk. The guards said they saw no one. It makes no sense, but I can't shake this feeling that something is wrong.”

Emma snorted, amused. “Your clasp is probably buried somewhere under the mess you call your rooms. Honestly, David, I don't know how you can find anything in there, it's positively dismal.”

The prince huffed at that, used to his sister's ribbing. “It may look messy, but I know where everything is, I have a system.”

“ Well, every system has it faults. Seems like it's time to -”

“ David! Emma!”

Both royals turned towards the sound, Emma more slowly than David as she tried to maneuver in her skirts, as a young boy came running towards them, his brown eyes shining excitedly. He skidded to a stop right in front of them, putting his hands on his knees as he got his breath back.

“ I'm so glad I found you before the ceremony! You'll never guess what just happened!”

Brother and sister looked at each other, twin expressions of amusement and curiosity on their faces. Turning once again towards the boy, Emma shifted uncomfortably in her outfit, as David asked him, “I don't know, what is it, Henry? Has the King finally come to his senses and decided to replace the council with Granny?”

“ No, silly! I've done it! Captain Cassidy has accepted to take me on as his cabin boy! I'm going to sail with him!” Henry said, bouncing excitedly.

Hearing this, Emma furrowed her brow. Henry had been talking for months about wanting to join the Navy, but Emma had not paid it much credibility, thinking that eleven years old was way too young to serve on a ship, and that, like his other fancies, this too would pass. The truth was, she was not ready to see him go. She had taken care of him since he had been brought to the castle, and she didn't want to see her little charge leave the nest, so to speak. Plus, there was of course the added worry of Henry's true origins. The medallion suddenly felt heavier under her dress, as she hadn't had the occasion to remove it without one of her maids seeing it.

While she had been worrying, David had been congratulating Henry, who had then turned expectantly towards her, waiting for her reaction. She snapped out of her thoughts when she saw his face fall slightly at her continued silence. Smiling at him, she tried to bend to his level, but found herself stopped in her movement by her unyielding corset digging into her ribs. She winced and stood back up, contenting herself with putting her hand on his shoulder, while the other rubbed her side.

“ I'm happy for you, Henry, I really am. Although… don't you think it's a little early to start serving? You're young, you could wait a little, enjoy your childhood-”

“ I know I'm younger than most, but I'm ready, Emma. I've been studying, and Captain Cassidy has been letting me do some chores on the  _ Pride _ when I was with him. Also, don't forget I've been working for years already, I've been running errands since I was six.”

Emma blinked, surprised at all the arguments he gave her. Then one thing he had said came back to her, and her eyes narrowed. _ “Captain Cassidy has been letting me do some chores on the Pride...” _ So  _ that's _ what they had been doing when they went down to the docks. And here, when she had shared her concerns with him and David a few weeks ago, Cassidy had told her he agreed with her, while he had been going behind her back this whole time! She would need to have some words with  _ Commodore _ Cassidy, and  _ soon _ .

~~~~~~~

The hot summer sun shone through the stained-glass windows of the Great Hall, casting colorful reflections on the marble floor. Emma stood on the raised dais in the center of the room to her father's left while Gauthier, the Master of Ceremonies, droned on about the recent achievements of the Royal Navy. Every minute felt like an eternity to the princess, who was sweltering in her fashionable, but weather-inappropriate gown. Her little fan did nothing to refresh her, as it only sent warm air her way. She could feel a trickle of sweat running down her nape, hidden by the elaborate curls that composed her updo, which went down until it was soaked up by her shift. She shifted on her feet, feeling out of breath even though she hadn't moved in what felt like hours, but was closer to thirty minutes.

Once the Master of Ceremony was finished, her father stepped forward, while the heavy wooden doors were opened to let through the officers who were to be promoted today. Cassidy, as the highest ranking, would be last. The procession went on, as each man went through a guard of honor, had his personal achievements listed before his stripes were removed and replaced with those of his new rank.

What was usually merely boring for Emma was pure torture right now, as the sun now shone directly on her, increasing her discomfort ten-fold. Another squirm on her part earned her a quick glare from David, who knew how much these ceremonies bored her, and thought that was all her fidgeting was.

Finally, as Emma's vision started to swim, Cassidy's name was called, and he strode through the doors, his head held high, his spine straight. When he stood in front of the King after bowing deeply to him, his tall frame dwarfed Gauthier’s next to him, who was reciting his many achievements, ending with the capture of a pirate whose name Emma did not catch through the pounding of her blood and the ringing in her ears, as she was hit with a dizzy spell at that moment. Thankfully, her father did not dither, and quickly changed the new Commodore's stripes, before gifting him with a new sword, as was customary.

 

After a round of applause, which Emma joined a second too late, her reflexes slowed by the heat, the ceremony thankfully ended with everyone rushing to congratulate the newly promoted officers. Before she could even take one step towards the balcony to take a breath of fresh air, her father came towards her, Cassidy in tow.

“Emma, here you are,” the King said, “Wasn’t the ceremony beautiful? Gauthier surpassed himself, don’t you think?”

Emma smiled and nodded, fanning herself furiously. The King, seeing her agitation, and misinterpreting the reasons behind it, looked between her and Cassidy, before smiling at the officer. “Commodore, the weather today is lovely, and I hear it is very nice out on the balcony. Why don’t you take the Princess for a walk there, for a moment, while it is quiet and empty?” Robert asked, not so subtly winking at his daughter at his last words.

The princess flushed, feeling mortified at her father’s conspicuousness. However, since this would allow her to get some fresh air with no further delay, as well as a moment to discuss the Henry situation with Cassidy, she nodded again to her father, and, without waiting, she started towards the balcony doors, concentrating on walking in a straight line. After only a few steps, she sensed the Commodore on her left, who offered her his arm. She took it, and leaned on it more heavily than she maybe should have, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

Once they had reached the doors, the Commodore released her arm to open the door and let her slip outside first. Emma hurried to do so, and sighed in relief as a cool breeze caressed her face. Taking a few steps towards the railing, staying in the cooler shadows, she looked over the scenery for a few moments, waiting for the dizziness to abate. The view was really breathtaking from here, the balcony overlooking the estuary in the middle of which the castle was standing. The sound of the waves crashing on the cliff just beneath her soothed Emma, as they had always done.

After a few moments, she turned towards her silent companion, who was waiting patiently, his arms clasped behind his back, the feather in his hat ruffled by the breeze the only movement she could see. She had known the man for eleven years now, her mother, and then her father, having taken a shine to him and inviting him to the castle whenever he was ashore. While he was closer to David, having been his commanding officer during his stint in the Navy two years earlier, Emma had come to know and respect him, even if she thought he could be a little condescending at times. 

And there was the matter of Henry’s appointment as his cabin boy.

She began, “Commodore, there is a matter I would like to discuss with you, one that has come to my attention quite recently,” she saw the officer’s eyes widen in alarm. She continued, even though she was puzzled to  see him sigh in relief when he understood what she wanted to talk about. What had he thought she meant? “I saw Henry this morning, who told me about his becoming your cabin boy. I was quite surprised, you should know, as, considering our last conversation on the subject, I had assumed we were in agreement on the fact he is far too young to assume such a role.” She had to stop here to take a big breath, feeling winded.

Cassidy seized the opportunity to speak, taking a step towards her, “Your Highness, I assure you, we  _ are  _ in agreement. Eleven is indeed far too young to start serving. However, your father, seeing the interest Henry has shown recently in sailing, has decided to grant his wish.”

“An interest which you have fed by secretly giving him lessons on your ship!” Emma said, pointing her finger accusingly at him. 

“I did not give him lessons  _ secretly _ , as you put it, Your Highness,” Cassidy answered stiffly, crossing his arms, “I merely answered his questions and showed him a few basic things, just as you were shown at the same age. Had you taken any interest in what we did, instead of trying to pass his interest for sailing as a mere “fancy”, then perhaps this appointment would not have come as such a surprise to you.”

Emma fumed. “How dare y- I have taken care of Henry since I found him. I have helped raise him, I have taken care of his education, I have listened to him, played with him, talked with him for the last eleven years. I have  _ loved  _ him. And, because you have deigned to give him him a little attention here and there in the last few months, you presume to know him better than I do?”

The officer’s blue eyes flashed, and he advanced until he was standing a few feet away. “I do care about Henry, I always have. Yes, we have spent more time together lately. He is a bright boy, and very curious. Since he is determined on joining the Navy, I would rather he stays with me, where I can keep an eye on him, rather than under anyone else, who might not be as careful. If you disagree with this, I advise you to take it up directly with your father, Princess. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” 

And with this, he took two steps back, bowed perfunctorily before turning smartly on his heel and going back inside the Great Hall.

Emma found herself breathing heavily, both from anger and from the heat. The brief respite she had gotten a few minutes earlier had ended when the midday sun had rounded the corner and had started beating down on the balcony. The breeze had also abated, leaving her to feel as if she was suffocating in the blasted corset. Once again, and not for the first time of the day, she cursed the White Kingdom’s Queen and her apparent masochism.

Feeling dizzy, she staggered back to the railing, leaning heavily on it, trying to catch the faintest wisp of wind. A few moments later, she heard steps behind her, before her father’s voice sounded.

“Princess Emma of Misthaven, what did you do? The Commodore came almost storming out of the Great Hall, and didn’t even stay for his own celebration! He almost bowled over the Duchess of Wildfell! She’s seventy two!”

Emma opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came out. Her father, oblivious in his agitation, continued, “I know things have been difficult lately, since your mother’s passing. But you are a princess Emma, and you have to maintain a good image with your subjects, especially those you are going to see often, like the Commodore. Now, I don’t know what happened just now, but I expect you to make amends, do you hear me?”

“I- I need help,” stuttered Emma, who had been feeling worse and worse as black dots appeared in her vision.

“Now, don’t beat yourself up, duckling, you are a wonderful young woman, I’m sure you’ll manage just fine on your own. You know, the Commodore may be a little peremptory but he is a good man. I’m sure if-”

But Emma heard no more as she lost consciousness, falling over the railing towards the crashing waves below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, see you on next Wednesday!


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you to [Kit](https://gingerchangeling.tumblr.com/) and [Devon](https://shireness-says.tumblr.com/), my two betas!  
> Please don't forget to go see Molly's [art](http://slow-smiles.tumblr.com/post/175804640267/the-curse-of-the-black-rodger-by-snidgetsafan), especially the fourth, fifth and seventh one who all pertain to this chapter, they're amazing <3  
> And thank you to [wingedlioness](http://wingedlioness.tumblr.com/) for the gorgeous header!

“And so you see, this is why I need to get onboard a ship. My father is ill, and my mother needs me to help with the farm. I can pay, my mother left me this ring…” Margaret said, showing the sailors the ring on her left hand. Snow hated the simpering tone she had to use, but she needed to make sure that she didn’t give herself away through her voice or mannerisms. She had therefore assumed the guise of Margaret Breagh, a simple farm girl. She reluctantly held up her hand to show the ring she wore, “I am loath to part from it, but … I’ll do what I must.”

The sailor on the left, a tall and lanky man, scratched his chin. “Thing is, lass, the port is closed down today. There’s a big to-do at the castle right now, and all the officers are schmoozing up there.”

The young woman bit her lip, rapidly blinking large green eyes that were shining with tears. The two men, seeing this, shifted uncomfortably, not knowing how to deal with a crying woman. “Look, girlie, come back tomorrow morning at first light, there is bound to be a ship going to… Where is it you wanted to go to again?” the small and chubby-cheeked man on the right asked, suddenly realizing that she had never said where she wanted to go.

“Well, I - “ Margaret began, before movement on the periphery of her sight caught her attention. As she turned her head sharply to the right, she saw a large green and gold object falling in the water with a big splash. Realizing that the something was a _someone_ when she saw a hat gently falling down before settling on the water, Snow ran to the edge of the dock as a strange ripple spread from where the woman had fallen, going towards the open sea. Stopping at the edge of the quay, Margaret shouted back to the two sailors, who had turned at the noise, but remained rooted to the spot. “Do something, she’s going to drown!”

“Who?” asked the first sailor.

“What do you mean, who? The woman who just fell in the water, you idiot! Hurry up and go and get her!”

The two sailors looked at each other, embarrassed, while the young woman waited impatiently. “Thing is, lass… We can’t swim.”

“What do you mean you can’t - Oh, sod it,” said Snow, exasperatedly taking off her cloak and her satchel and throwing them to the surprised men, who fumbled to not drop them. Then, before they could react, she jumped in the water, gasping as she surfaced, and began to swim in the direction of the woman had gone under, and still hadn’t reappeared. Once she had arrived a few yards from the cliff, she took a deep breath and dove in the water, looking for the sinking woman, the salt in the cold ocean water burning her eyes as she squinted through the gloom.

Snow searched, but didn’t see anything until she had to go back up to take a much needed breath, and a golden glint near the sea bed caught her eye just before she broke the surface.

Taking a quick breath as soon as she emerged, Snow dove again, this time aiming for where she had seen the flash of gold. As she approached, she could see that it was indeed the woman, her golden hair floating around her face, but she was unconscious, and slowly sinking to the bottom of the bay, weighted down by her heavy dress.

When Snow reached her, she tried to lift the woman towards the surface, but she proved too heavy. Quickly stopping her efforts, she instead started to tug at the laces of the dress’ intricate bodice, before impatiently ripping through them when the wet material proved unyielding. Once the woman was free from the dress, Snow grabbed the blonde under her arms, and, kicking off the seabed, she propelled them towards the surface as her lungs threatened to give out.

Taking a blessed gulp of fresh air, she looked at the unresponsive woman, who had a blue tinge to her lips. Swimming as fast as she could towards the nearest dock, she heaved the woman then herself onto the wooden planks with the help of the two sailors, who had been anxiously waiting.

The soaked woman ignored the sailors’ murmurs behind her of “Bloody hell, that’s Princess Emma.” She crawled on her knees to the unconscious woman and examined her. Seeing the unnatural cinch of the blonde’s waist, Snow took a knife out of her boot and sliced clean through the laces holding the undergarment in place. The effect was immediate, as the woman’s body jerked, and she began to heave up water. Snow helped her roll onto her side so she wouldn’t choke. A small thud made her look down, and she saw that a heavy gold medallion had fallen out of her chemise and was laying on the wooden planks. Picking the necklace up, she looked at it, and was shocked to see a skull grinning at her from the center of the jewel. What was a princess doing with pirate jewelry?

Green eyes locked onto each other, but before she could question the slowly recovering woman, the sound of many feet running up the dock made her turn her head, and she saw a group running towards them, two tall men at their head, one in Naval uniform, and the other in court finery.

“Emma!” the second one shouted as soon as he saw the prone woman. Dropping to his knees next to Snow, he cradled the back of the blonde’s head, his thumb stroking her hair while he made sure she was alright. The other man lowered himself on her other side, unbuttoning his jacket before draping it over her soaked form.

Snow took advantage of their distraction to observe the man next to her; a strong, clean-shaven jaw, blue eyes that were concentrated on the woman’s - Emma’s - face, with a slightly crooked nose that stood above plush lips that begged to be kissed. Even the quite dreadful dark blonde queue couldn’t take away from the man’s handsomeness.

Snow was broken out of her contemplation by a cold gust of wind coming from the sea, which made her shiver in her wet clothes. The movement attracted the attention of the finely-dressed man next to her, who, seeing her discomfort, hurried to take off his own jacket before draping it over her shoulders. As he finished tugging it around her, their eyes met for the first time, and Snow forgot about everything around her. Tucking her wet hair behind her ear with her right hand, she smiled softly. “Thank you, sir” she said, burrowing deeper in his jacket, both to warm up and to inhale his scent.

“I should be the one thanking you, milady. You saved my sister’s life at the peril of your own, after all,” he answered.

Snow’s spine stiffened. If he was the princess’ brother, then that made him - “You’re Prince David,” she blurted out, too stunned to be prudent, as he got to his feet. Well, he had certainly grown since the last time she had seen him. Fifteen years would do that. She remembered a gangly boy, who has been more interested in watching the knights fight than riding or playing with a “little girl.” Did he even remember her?

This was _bad_.

The prince took her hands and pulled her to her feet, unaware of her turmoil, as the other man did the same with the princess, who was enveloped in a fierce hug by her father, who had just arrived. Snow looked quickly around her, searching for an escape route. The whole pier was filling with officers, and members of the Court who wanted to see what the ruckus was about. That way was out then. The two sailors with her satchel and cloak were standing a few feet away, looking a little bewildered to find themselves in such august company. She looked behind them, and saw a solution. But before she made her exit, she needed to get at least her satchel back.

“...Miss?”

Snow snapped her head back towards the prince, who was looking at her with a concerned expression, still holding her hands. It must not have been the first time he had tried to get her attention. Plastering a smile on her face, she blinked at him innocently. “I’m sorry, I became a little dizzy for a moment. What did you say, your Highness?”

“I said that you had me at a disadvantage. You clearly know who I am, and yet I don’t even know your name, miss…”

Her name. He wanted her name. What had she told the sailors? She couldn’t think, his blue eyes locked with her as they were, and the sensation of  his thumbs stroking the backs of her hands softly threw her for a loop. Did he even realize he was doing it? Once she had noticed, it was the only thing she could focus on.

“Mary…” _Wait, crap, no!_ “...Margaret,” she stuttered, at a loss for words. “Yes, Mary Margaret.”

A corner of the Prince’s lips rose in a crooked, amused smile. Dropping her right hand, he slowly raised her left, his eyes never leaving hers. “Well, Miss Mary Margaret, it’s a pleasure and an honor to meet you,” he said, brushing his lips against her knuckles and sending a tingle up her arm that made her flutter her eyelashes. “I hope - “

But he suddenly interrupted himself, and the gentle hold he had on her hand became a vice-like grip. Snow startled, not understanding where the abrupt change had come from. Following his gaze, she saw that his eyes were focused on the ring on her finger. Jerking her hand closer to his face, he examined it carefully, before his eyes snapped back to her face. Where before his blue eyes had held gentleness and admiration, they were now hard and blazing.

“This isn’t yours, where did you get that?” David questioned. His harsh tone attracted the attention of some of the people around them, who turned to see what was going on.

“I don’t know what you mean, this belonged to my mother,” Snow tried to free her hand, but the prince didn’t budge, except by shifting his grip from her hand to her wrist.

“Really? Because I could have sworn it belonged to _my_ mother, before you took it from my chambers last night,” the prince said, raising a brow, and yanking the ring off her finger.

Snow thought fast, “And is that the only thing I took, your Highness? Because I’d always heard you were more in the habit of _giving_ ,” Snow said in a fake whisper, batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner.

“I beg your pardon?” the prince exclaimed, blushing furiously. “I’d never-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Snow had taken advantage of his fluster to wrench her hand from his, shoving him hard into the soldiers behind him and taking off towards the end of the jetty, ignoring the cries from the crowd. But her escape attempt was quickly foiled as the two sailors from before chose that moment to become competent, as they caught her and pulled her arms behind her back, making her borrowed jacket fall on the dock.

Despite her struggles, she didn’t manage to free herself, and she soon found herself face to face with the prince again, this time flanked by the rest of the royal family and the tall officer from before, the other sailors and court members gawking from behind, unwilling to miss even one second of the drama unfolding in front of them. Irons were quickly procured and secured around her wrists before the two sailors - _she really needed to stop calling them that. Lanky and Bitty?_ _Yes, Lanky and Bitty-_ released her, but still flanking her.

The prince watched her with a smug smile on his ridiculously attractive face, his arms crossed. Snow scowled, “Is this the only way you can catch a woman? By entrapping her?”

“It’s the only way to catch thieving scum,” David answered hotly, losing his smile and taking a step in her direction. “Now, who are you really, thief? Is Mary Margaret even your real name?”

Before she could answer, one of the two sailors - _Bitty_ \- rushed to speak, wanting to shine in front of royalty. “She said her name was Margaret, your Highness, but I knew from the beginning something fishy was going on.”

Lanky scoffed, looking at his comrade with exasperation, before speaking in turn, “We have her satchel and cloak with us, your Highness, if you wanted to take a look.”

The sailor handed her belongings to the Prince, while Snow watched in sullen silence. The first things to come out were a dagger and a few provisions. Snow closed her eyes when the prince pulled out his silver brooch, not wanting to see the look on his face. When she opened her eyes again, he had given the satchel back to Lanky, and was holding the two things she didn’t want him to be holding.

“So, let’s see what we have here: a drawing stolen from a book, and not a good one at that, and a broken compass. You have to be one of the worse thieves I’ve ever seen.”

Snow did not raise to the obvious bait, but just smiled at him in a sickly sweet manner. Understanding she would not talk, her captor changed tactics, and asked her again, “Who are you?”

“I told you, my name is Mary Margaret,” Snow said, looking him in the eye.

“No, it’s not,” came a soft voice. The princess had been listening silently from her father’s embrace, but she took this opportunity to take a step forward, standing next to her brother. “You’re lying,” she said, looking at Snow.

“Prove it,” the brunette said, raising her chin.

“She already did, and I trust her more than some common thief,” snarked the prince.

“Well, aren’t you a Prince Charming,” Snow drawled, trying to divert attention from her identity.

However, today was her unlucky day, as, right at that moment, a sailor came through the crowd, jostling a few people, and gave a piece of parchment to the naval officer, who glanced at it before handing it to the prince, whispering a few words in his ear. The prince looked at it, and his spine stiffened, before he looked up at her, his gaze even harder than before. Wordlessly, he handed it to his father, before tersely telling two soldiers behind him, “Take her to the dungeons.”

Before she could react, the princess, who had watched the exchange with curiosity, stepped between her and the advancing soldiers, protesting loudly, “No! What are you doing? I owe her my life, can’t we show her some mercy as a thank you?”

“Emma, get away from her,” the King said urgently, “she’s the one who killed Snow White, she’s wanted by Queen Regina.” Snow hid her scowl behind the blonde’s back as the whole crowd gasped in horror and pressed closer.

Snow jumped into action at that moment, quickly bending down to draw the dagger from her boot. Straightening up just as quickly, she looped the chain linking her shackles around the blonde’s neck before she could move, jerking her into her body as she took a few steps back, before pulling on her hair to expose her throat to her weapon.

“Nobody move! One movement and you can say goodbye to your dear princess,” Snow threatened, watching as most of the men made to draw their weapons, a few soldiers raising their crossbows. At her words, they looked to their King, who told them to stand down.

Looking back at the prince, Snow told him, “Now, your Highness, my satchel, if you please.”

Glaring at her, murder in his eyes, the prince did not move, until she pressed the dagger on his sister’s neck, making her gasp.

“Wouldn’t be your first princess, would it,” he growled, shoving all her things back in the bag, before throwing it to the women, Emma catching it by reflex. Snow glared at the prince. The idiot had no idea what he was talking about. He was safe with his little family, in his little castle, in his little kingdom. He had no idea what she had had to endure.

Whispering in her ear, Snow told her, “Now, you’re going to turn very slowly, and you’re going to slip the bag around my neck. Don’t try anything, or wet hair is going to be the least of your problems, understood?” The bandit waited for her captive to nod before releasing her hair and lowering the pressure of the dagger, allowing her to turn around. While making sure none of the men were trying to take advantage of her movements to make a move, she didn’t see the speculative way in which the princess was looking at her. Her words, however, caught her attention.

“You’re bluffing,” the princess said softly.

“Excuse me?”

“When you threaten me, you’re lying. You wouldn’t harm me.”

“Princess, I have a _knife_ to your _throat_ ,” Snow said, speaking to her as if she were an idiot.

“Still, you’re bluffing.”

“And what are you going to do about that, then?”

“Nothing,” said Emma, shocking Snow for the second time in as many minutes. “Consider my debt paid.”

Risking a glance at the princess, Snow saw she was looking at her solemnly, with not an ounce of deception in her green eyes. Looking back at the men over the blonde’s shoulder, she couldn’t help but ask, as they started advancing, “Your brother just told you I killed another princess, and you’re going to help me, really? Did you hit your head on a rock going down that cliff?” As the princess’ eyes narrowed before widening in some kind of realization, she unlooped the chain from around her neck and shoved her hard into her brother, making them both stumble back and fall down, slowing down the attack, as no soldier wanted to be the one to trample the heirs to the throne in front of their father.

Snow did not stay to watch the scene, however. As soon as she was free from the princess, she ran down the dock, her satchel swinging wildly around her neck, as the princess shouted “Lie!”

Stopping under the hoisting crane at the end of the jetty she had spotted earlier, she grabbed a rope before kicking a lever, which released a weight and propelled her into the air, just as her pursuers arrived. Grabbing onto the top of the crane, she threw the chain of her shackles over the rope that linked this crane to the next boat slip on the dock, a detail she had spotted earlier. Grabbing securely onto the far loop, she flung herself over the water, the last thing she heard being the prince shouting at her “I’ll find you, thief!”

Looking behind her shoulder as she flew towards the next dock, she locked eyes with the prince and smiled widely, both from the exhilaration of her speed and from the satisfaction of outsmarting the blue-eyed man.

Looking back in front of her, just in time to drop on the other dock with a roll, Snow lost no time in running towards the relative safety of the town, while her pursuers struggled to follow her through the chaos that she had left behind.

\------------------

Snow slipped through the doors of one of the town’s blacksmiths. Once she had reached the cooler shadows of an alleyway, she had realized she couldn’t just run through the town looking like she did. If her soaked state didn’t draw attention, her shackled hands certainly would. She had seen this shop on her way to the port, and she figured she could hide there and find a way to get rid of her irons.

Tiptoeing into the shop, the thief saw it was empty. Looking around her, she saw rows of metal-working tools, but she knew those were useless, as she didn’t have the strength nor the range of motion to break her chains that way. Looking on the other side of the room, she saw a machine made of giant gears, clearly powered by the donkey placidly standing under it. Approaching it, she tried to loop her chains around one of the teeth of the biggest gear, but she they were too high. Jumping a little to try and reach them after putting her satchel down, she saw she was missing a few inches at most. Searching for a solution around her, her eyes fell on the donkey. Could it work?

After carefully getting on the donkey’s back, Snow managed to hook the manacles’ chain over one of the gear teeth, by stretching her arms and torso. Smiling in victory at almost reaching freedom, she tried to spur the donkey so it could deliver her from her manacles by softly kicking its sides.

Except it didn’t. It continued to calmly chew, despite Snow’s repeated kicks, which got progressively more desperate as it refused to budge. Stopping after a minute, she looked down at the animal, slightly winded, “You’re not being very cooperative, are you?”

Her only response was a placid bray before the donkey started chewing again.

Looking for a way to make it move forward, she couldn’t see anything, except for the open and lit forge, a poker glowing red in its lip, but she was not that cruel. Then, inspiration struck her. She unhooked her hands, and reached for one of her hairpins. Lightly pricking the donkey’s rump, she hurried to loop the chain again on the gear. Braying in protest, her mount started advancing, powering the machine until Snow found herself free from her manacles, the chain links crushed between the two giant gears grinding together, her arms snapping apart, and her shoulders protesting at the sudden movement.

However, her victory was short-lived. Over the metallic grinding noise of the machine, she heard voices outside. Quickly dismounting her oh-so-noble steed, she went to hide in the shadows at the back of the shop. No sooner had she found a hiding place behind a rack of swords than the door opened, admitting none other than the Prince and two knights. The three men looked around quickly, seeing nothing out of order, except for the donkey still turning in his circuit. “See, sir, there’s no one here. It’s only the ass, probably has been stung by a tick or a horsefly”, said one of the knights.

“Yeah, probably,” said the prince, looking around thoughtfully. “Go to the next house, I’ll join you shortly.”

Snow hid deeper in the shadows as the current bane of her existence stepped further into the shop, calming the still walking donkey by scratching behind its ears mere feet from her hiding place. After what seemed an eternity to her, but was probably less than a minute, the prince turned to go. However, after only a few steps, he froze, his eyes fixated on something.

She had forgotten her bag on the floor.

Before he could unsheathe his sword, Snow sprung into action, grabbing a sword from the rack and pointing it at his back. “Hand off your sword,” Snow said, “and don’t even think of shouting for your guard dogs.”

David had stiffened when he had felt the tip of the sword poke between his shoulder blades. Slowly raising his hands, he looked behind his shoulder, meeting Snow’s glare. “I guess it _was_ an ass making the noise after all. You managed to free yourself, then,” he commented.

Still pointing her sword at him, Snow skirted around the prince and picked up her satchel , slinging it around her body without breaking eye contact. Stepping back slowly, she made for the back door. “What?” she asked, seeing the corner of his lips tick up in an amused smile.

“Do you really think you can slip away, in broad daylight, with two garrisons looking for you?”

“I can try,” she said, trying to hide her wince. _Two garrisons?_

The man had the nerve to chuckle, crossing his arms, as if he were talking to an old friend rather than a criminal wanted throughout three kingdoms. “And what do you think will happen? Turn around, I’m coming after you. Go outside, I’m coming after you _and_ calling for reinforcements. Even if you somehow manage to slip away, I will find you. I already did once, after all,” he concluded, taking a step forward.

“Stay where you are,” Snow snapped, “Come closer, and it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.”

He froze again, and looked at her, consideringly. “I talked to Emma, you know.”

Snow blinked at the non-sequitur, before he continued.

“She told me about your little conversation. More importantly, she told me she doesn’t believe you killed Princess Snow.”

“Oh, and if she believes it, then it has to be true, then,” the princess said.

“Yes,” David answered simply.

“If you believe that, then why are you so adamant on arresting me?”

“Because you may not be a murderer, but you’re still a thief.”

“Do you always pursue thieves with this much zeal? I thought I was - what was it? -  “the worst thief you’ve ever seen”? Surely your Royal Highness has better matters to attend to?”

“A common thief you may be but you entered into my rooms so it's my business,” said the prince, raising an eyebrow and shifting his weight.

“Oh please, I barely took a couple of worthless trinkets that you wouldn’t miss.”

“That ring you call a worthless trinket was my mother’s engagement ring. She gave it to me on her deathbed so that I could give it to my future wife. It’s one of my most precious possessions,” he concluded, his tone low.

Snow winced. She’d had to go for the family heirloom.

“Look, Mary Margaret, or whatever your name is. There’s no way you’ll be able to flee. Surrender now, and we’ll take it into account during your trial. We’ll even help you clear up the misunderstanding with the Queen, so you can go back home”, David said earnestly, his blue eyes pleading with her to accept his offer.

His plea fell on deaf ears. “You think the fact I’ve been hunted for years is a _misunderstanding_?” Snow scoffed, “You have no idea, do you?”

“Then please, help me understand. I can help you.”

“Why would you? You don’t know me.”

“I don’t know. It’s just, before I saw the ring, I thought..”

“What did you think?” Snow interrupted, “That we had something? Please.”

“Is it so hard to believe?”

“Yes.” Snow had slowly been shuffling backwards, and, at this, she took off at a run towards the back door, hoping to outrun the heavier prince. As she reached the door, a silver flash in front of her face closely followed by a heavy thud made the door vibrate. Looking towards the source of the noise, she saw a sword embedded just above the latch, still vibrating, which had definitely not been there a few seconds before. How -

Snow stared at the sword in bewilderment for a second, before trying to pry it from the door. It was so deeply embedded, however, that it didn’t even budge, despite her putting her whole weight on it.

Her efforts were quickly interrupted by the prince, who tried to grab her from behind. She struck his ribs with her elbow, making him grunt and release his hold as he doubled over at the pain. Running for the other side of the shop, towards the door through which she had first entered, she stumbled down as her feet got tangled in a rope that was half-hidden in the sand covering the floor.

Turning on her back to untangle her feet, she saw her would-be jailer, still hunched over, striding towards her, a determined look on his face, and a dagger in his hand. She hurried as well, and managed to free herself just in time to kick at the royal’s chest as he tried again to grab her. This attempt was however less successful than the first one, as he caught her foot and threw her leg to the side, before dropping to the floor, his solid thighs pinning her own, as he put the knife to her throat.

Snow stilled instantly, watching him warily. All of this struggle had happened in silence, the only sound their heavy panting. Once again, their eyes were locked, tension sizzling between them. The bandit shifted her torso uncomfortably before stilling once again. While she may have only met him and spent most of their acquaintance running from him, she knew the prince wouldn’t hurt her; his principles prevented him from doing so, as he believed her innocent. Not to mention, he  thought they had a _connection_.

This gave her the advantage.

“And now?” she raised her chin defiantly and relaxed her shoulders, unconsciously taking on a regal appearance.

David looked at her, still breathing heavily, his hair flopping into his eyes, but his dagger never wavering from her throat. “Now, you come with me, and we get this misunderstanding with the White Queen cleared up.”

 _White Queen? More like Black Hag_ , thought Snow, her lip curling in disgust. Out loud, she asked, “You never give up, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” he said simply.

“Me neither,” Snow said, grabbing him by the hair with her left hand and jerking his head down. Before he could react, she slanted her lips over his, and kissed him passionately. He didn’t respond at first, too shocked to move, but once he realized what was happening, his eyes closed, and with a deep breath, he began to move with her, caressing her lips with his own.

Before she could become too distracted - _for a prince, he could kiss_ \- she jerked his head back by the hair she was still holding, and as his eyes were fluttering open, she clocked him on the chin with the manacle’s chain, which she had looped around her fist.

Dazed for an entirely different reason now, he started to fall to the side, his grip relaxing on the dagger’s handle until it fell with a clatter to the ground. Snow pushed him off her before scrabbling to her feet and making for the door before he could come to, ignoring her still-tingling lips. Looking back at him as she exited, she felt a small twinge of guilt as she saw him looking at her, still sprawled on the floor, one hand cradling his bleeding chin, and the other stretched towards her.

So distracted was she as she rounded the corner to the docks that she didn’t see the three soldiers until they told her to freeze, their crossbows trained on her.

Closing her eyes in resignation, she opened them again when she felt new shackles being put on her arms, behind her back this time. Refusing to look at her captors, she looked towards the sea, focusing on the line of black clouds that had gathered on the horizon, and which seemed to be headed towards the port.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's chapter 2! Again, hope you enjoyed it, see you on next Wednesday! You can also find me on [ Tumblr ](http://snidgetsafan.tumblr.com) if you want to say hello.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you to Kit and Devon, my two betas.  
> Please don't forget to go see Molly's [art](http://slow-smiles.tumblr.com/post/175804640267/the-curse-of-the-black-rodger-by-snidgetsafan)  
> 

Emma stood in front of her window, looking out at the Misthaven bay as her maids prepared her bed for the night. Black clouds had quickly rolled in during the afternoon, and what had started as a sunny, scorching day had ended with the skies breaking open, drenching the earth below and cooling the air to a more bearable temperature as the wind whipped everything into submission.

The rain had now calmed down to a drizzle, but the wind continued to howl as it blew in from the sea. The clouds were so thick that neither the stars nor the moon could be seen. The only thing she could see were the twinkling lights of the town, each hinting at a story behind panes of glass. She could also discern the bridge linking the island the castle stood on to the mainland as the lanterns that were placed at regular intervals on it shone, swinging in the wind. With no natural light to speak of, it appeared as if the town and harbor were across a bottomless chasm with only a thin rope of light linking them.

Unseen by her maids, Emma fiddled with the gold medallion, still around her neck. Since her unfortunate dip in the ocean, she hadn’t had a single moment to herself except for the moment she had changed out of her soaked chemise, everyone fussing around her for what felt like hours.

Her father in particular had not left her side, frantic with worry and guilt as he was. After having the court doctor, Hirudinas, look her over (twice, at her father’s behest) and declare that she was as healthy as ever, if a little shaken by the incident, the king had finally conceded and dismissed everyone from her rooms. Once the room had emptied, he had begun apologizing profusely for the accident, which he saw as his fault.

It had taken several minutes and David’s arrival to convince her father that it was only an unfortunate chain of circumstances which had ended with Emma in the water, and not anything the king himself had done. King Robert’s residual fear had, however, prompted him to declare that his daughter would never have to wear corsets again if she didn’t want to. This proclamation did _not_ fall on deaf ears, and Emma’s internal cheering was only muffled by the pervasive cold left from her dip in the harbor.

After their father had been reassured, Hirudinas, who had been summoned back, tended to the cut on David’s chin. The prince had informed Emma and their father that the woman who had saved her life had been put in the dungeons and was awaiting a trial before the Royal Court, which was scheduled to take place the next day.

After making sure that his sister was alright, David had left, though not without a parting quip about how she’d just _had_ to outstage Cassidy’s promotion. The Commodore had excused himself as soon as she had reached her rooms, bowing stiffly to her and leaving without turning back. _Good riddance_ , Emma had thought, still not over the tall officer’s earlier words.

It had only been ten minutes since her father had finally left her side, after repeated assurances that she was _fine_ and just needed rest. Only repeatedly yawning had convinced the king to leave her, and she now waited for Daisy and Julia to finish turning down her covers and putting her bed warmer under the mattress so she wouldn’t catch a chill.

As Emma waited for her maids to finish their tasks and leave, she couldn't help but wonder why the woman from the docks had lied. _What was she trying to hide?_  

Before she could continue her musings, the door to her bedroom opened, and Henry came barreling through, making a beeline for Emma until his arms were wrapped around her hips. Emma took a step back under the force of his embrace, but she automatically hugged him back, placing her hand on his mop of brown hair and ignoring Julia’s protests about propriety. His face was hidden in her dressing gown, but she could feel warm little puffs of air through her clothing as he panted. As seconds passed, it seemed that his quickened breathing was not only caused by his race to her but by some kind of agitation, as it didn’t seem to slow down.

“I was so worried for you,” Henry said, his face still buried in her nightgown, “I was running errands for Granny this afternoon, and I heard two soldiers say you had fallen off the grand balcony into the sea. I thought you were…” he stopped there, as he choked up, his arms tightening and his face pressing even harder against her belly.

“I’m fine, Henry, it’s okay,” Emma soothed, still stroking his hair.

“Are you? Are you okay?” he questioned, pulling his face back, peering into her own. “You aren’t hurt?”

The princess smiled, touched by his concern. He had recently started spending less time with her, preferring other occupations, as growing boys were wont to do, and she missed having him be so openly affectionate with her. Still stroking his hair, she tried to comfort him.

“I’m completely fine, Dr Hirudinas looked me over and gave me a clean bill of health.”

“Yes, but has _Granny_ looked you over?” the boy asked, much to Daisy’s amusement, if her snort was any indication.

Emma smiled as well, knowing her charge’s aversion to the court doctor. His propensity to cure any ills with well-applied leeches made him unpopular in the castle, and even more so with the children, who called him Dr Bloodsucker behind his back. On the other hand, the widow Lucas, or Granny, as she preferred to be called, was a feared but well-loved figure among the servants. She ruled the castle’s kitchens with an iron grip, and her knowledge of herbs and remedies meant that most of the inhabitants of the castle went to see her for their ailments, rather than the doctor. Emma had also been known to see her, as her solution for curing headaches, while foul-tasting, was much less unpleasant that Hirudinas’ leeches.

“Yes, she came to see me earlier, don’t worry,” she told him, smiling. Granny’s visit had been what had prompted her father’s proclamation about corsets, as the older lady had examined the undergarment and pronounced it a torture device rather than a fashion statement, stating that Emma had been lucky not to bruise her ribs. When she had been told by a chagrined Robert that it was all the rage in the White Kingdom, she had scoffed, and had thrown the soaked corset in the chimney in a dramatic movement, saying its only use should be as a fire starter, before leaving the room to get Emma some tea.

“Your bed is ready, Your Highness,” Julia told her. Still looking at Henry, the princess could see his reluctance to leave her, evidenced in the nervous look in his eyes and in his arms tightening subconsciously around her waist.

“Would you like to stay with me tonight?” she asked him softly, ignoring Julia’s protests that it was improper, and Daisy’s subsequent explanations. While Julia had only been at her service for a year, Daisy had been with her for the better part of a decade, and she remembered many a morning when she had come to wake up her mistress and found a little brown head peeking from under the covers. After the day’s events, if this was what the princess needed, then this was what the princess would get.

Ignorant of what was going on behind him, Henry bit his lip, before nodding and releasing Emma from his grasp to start taking his boots and jacket off.

Once they were both ensconced under the covers, and the two maids had retired for the night, they laid on their sides, feebly illuminated by a candle on Emma’s nightstand, as the boy told her about his day before he had learnt of her accident.

After a few minutes, Henry’s eyes drifted downwards, and he frowned. Before she could react, his hand shot out and closed around the medallion, which had slipped from her nightgown, and had been lying on the mattress. Peering at it, he gasped when he saw the skull gleaming in the candle light.

“Emma, what’s this?” he breathed, his wide eyes not leaving the pendant. The young woman had frozen the moment his fingers had closed around it, and she now found herself faced with a dilemma that only this morning seemed far away. What should she tell him? Did she lie, and risk breaking his trust, or did she tell him the truth, and risk breaking his heart? How would he react to knowing she had lied to him from the beginning?

Henry, not understanding her prolonged silence, looked back at her face, where he must have seen her indecisiveness, as his brow creased in a frown. “Emma?” he said, his tone now hesitant, as he slowly released the pendant, letting it fall to the mattress with a dull thud.

The princess bit her lip, still unsure. She knew she couldn’t lie to him, as she had tried to teach him values such as honesty and honor.  Furthermore, she had to ask herself whether her continued silence about his true origins was more to protect him or herself. He was leaving soon to sail the seas; he deserved to know the whole truth. Her decision made, she took a deep breath, and removed the chain from around her neck, putting it between them on the mattress.

“Henry, this medallion… actually belongs to you,” she began, taking in the boy’s widening eyes.

“But I’ve never seen it before,” he said, fingering the edges of the medallion before pulling it closer to his face. “And it has a -”

“Pirate skull, yes.” she said softly, looking at him with apprehension. When he looked at her curiously, she plowed on. “The day we found you in the sea… This medallion was tucked in your blanket. At the time, I was afraid you’d be considered a pirate and treated as such, so I hid it to protect you. And then, I kind of forgot about it, until this morning.”

Emma waited for Henry to answer her, to say anything really, but he had sat up, and he was looking down at the medallion in his lap, fiddling with it, his fringe of brown hair hiding his eyes from hers.

“You mean, I’m a pirate?” he finally said, not raising his head.

“Oh Henry, no, of course you’re not,” she hurried to say, sitting up as well, “You _become_ a pirate, you are not born one.”

“But the necklace…”

“Means nothing. We don’t know how you came in its possession, or even if it’s really a pirate necklace. Skulls are not the exclusive property of pirates, you know,” she concluded, trying for a little humor.

“Yeah?” Henry said, finally looking up.

“Yes,” she smiled. She was relieved to see a corner of his mouth tick up in response, before he looked down again.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Emma cringed. “At first you were too young, and then I didn’t know how to broach the subject. I didn’t know how you would react when I told you. I was afraid you’d be disappointed in me, or that you’d feel like I’d betrayed you. I hope you’re not too cross with me.”

“Cross with you? No, not really,” he said, shrugging, taking a huge weight off her shoulders. “But why were you wearing the necklace?”

“Honestly, I haven’t looked at the thing in years. But when I woke up this morning, I was reminded of it by a dream I had, so I took it out, and I haven’t had the chance to put it back since. I’ll do it now,” she said, before thinking better. “Unless you want to keep it?”

“Nah, what would I do with a necklace? Plus, it looks good on you – you look like a pirate princess,” he said, handing it back.

“Henry Swan, are you telling me that I _smell_? I’ll have you know I took a bath today, and a quite thorough one, at that,” she joked, absent-mindedly putting the medallion around her neck again.

But her joke fell flat, as Henry was reminded of her fall, and all amusement in his eyes faded. “I was so afraid when I heard what had happened.”

Emma gathered him in her arms, hugging him to her. “I’m sorry you were worried, but I’m fine now,” she told him softly, a yawn punctuating the end of her sentence. “It’s late, and we’ve both had quite the day. Let’s go to sleep now.”

They both laid down, Emma spooning Henry after blowing out the candle just like when they were younger, and they fell asleep soon after.

\-----

For the second time in as many nights, Emma was startled awake as an enormous explosion sounded, making the castle shake on its foundations. Her ears rang, making her think she heard two other smaller explosions echoing in her mind. Her heart in her throat, she felt as Henry struggled with the covers to sit up next to her. Disoriented, she wondered what had happened. Had that been thunder?

Emma scrambled to her feet, rushing towards her window and peering into the darkness. What she saw made her gasp, and she threw the doors to her balcony open, leaning over the railing to get a better look at the bay. The bridge linking the castle to the village had collapsed in the middle, transforming the former into an island. As she watched, she saw a whole section of the bridge crumble, widening the gap and causing huge waves in the water. However, this didn’t explain why the walls had shaken so.

Before she could ponder the idea anymore, Henry joined her outside, gasping, directing her attention to a  light on the right of the bridge. As she turned her head in the direction of the harbor, she was horrified to see, right before her eyes, several fires starting simultaneously on a dozen ships. The flames gradually illuminated the quays around them and highlighted the chaos that had taken over, as men and women didn’t know whether to rush towards the bridge or to quell the fires before the whole harbor started blazing.

Once again, a flicker of light caught her attention, except this one was just below her, at the base of the castle. Dragging her eyes away from the burning port, she squinted at where she had seen the light, but she didn’t see anything. Until - there! Wait, was that a torch light? That made no sense; there was nothing there but boulders and the outer castle wall, no reason for someone to be lurking. But as the light appeared once again, she could see that what had only  hours earlier been a smooth stone wall was now sporting a huge gaping hole surrounded by rubble.

As she leant even farther over the railing as her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, the wind whipping her hair and her nightgown around her, she saw several dark shapes moving about. A few seconds later, a man appeared in the hole in the wall holding a lantern, illuminating what appeared to be half a dozen men, all soaked to the bone. They were not dressed in her father’s uniforms, and didn’t appear to be servants either. As she looked at them, one of them slowly looked up, appearing as if he were searching for something. Even though she was a hundred feet above him and concealed by the darkness, Emma saw with growing horror that his face was turned in her direction as he tapped on the arm of his neighbor, pointing towards her.

Before the second man could raise his gaze, she propelled herself backwards, grabbing the back of Henry’s shirt and taking him with her. Before he could protest, she covered his mouth, and forced him to retreat with her inside her room, where she released him.

“Emma? What’s going on?” he asked, as she hastily closed and locked the doors, drawing the curtains across them for good measure.

“We’re under attack. The castle has been infiltrated,” Emma told him, looking frantically around her for a clue about what to do. At a loss, she pulled on her slippers and her dressing gown, haphazardly tying it, thinking. Her maids had retired to their beds for the night, but they would hardly be of any help. She had no weapons here, nothing with which to protect herself and Henry, because of a deal she’d made with her father about no weapons in her bedroom. She cursed herself now; _no need for a sword in a lady’s rooms indeed_.

After her mother’s passing, her father had dealt with his grief by becoming even more protective of her than he had been before. He had been reluctant to let her continue practicing sword fighting, which she had started when she was nine, and which allowed her an outlet for all the frustration court life provided her with. After an inexperienced squire had scratched her, leaving her with a minor scar, her father had forbidden her from ever picking up a sword ever again, not wanting his daughter to come to harm. In order to continue with one of her favorite hobbies, she had struck a bargain with him: she would only spar with people he approved of, and her weapons stayed in the armory. She had put her foot down on wearing chainmail, however, as it hindered her movements too much, and was really uncomfortable.

A distant scream coming from inside the castle spurred her into action. Emma grabbed one of the heavy candelabras on her nightstand, the unlit candle falling unnoticed to the floor, before resolutely heading towards the door . She was the princess; Emma could not, _would_ not let her people fight off this attack alone.

“Where are you going?” Henry asked, starting to follow her. In her determination, she had momentarily forgotten about him. He seemed ready to come with her, only in his shirt and breeches, looking at her with his big, trusting brown eyes. While Emma could not let her people fight alone, she would _not_ see any harm come to her Henry. Putting the candelabra on her dressing table, she walked determinedly towards him, crouching in front of him.

“I’m going to help the servants, try to find David if I can,” she told him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

“I’m coming with you, maybe we can find Emrick too, he’ll help!”

“Emrick?” Emma said. Who was this _Emrick_?

“You know, Captain Cassidy! He’s staying at the castle tonight, I’m sure he’s already fighting.”

 _Cassidy’s first name was Emrick?_ Emma boggled. She hadn’t known that, despite knowing him for more than a decade. _Emrick Cassidy_ , she thought, distracted for a second. Strangely, it didn’t suit him, she thought, like a too big coat.

Another scream tore her from her musings, and she felt Henry’s shoulders startle under her hands. The small, involuntary movement cemented her resolve. He was _not_ coming with her.

“You are _not_ coming with me,” she said, looking in his eyes. “It’s way too dangerous, I won’t risk your life. We don’t know who these men are, or what they want.”

“But - “

“Henry, no discussion. You’re going to hide in my wardrobe, and you’re going to stay hidden there until I come back for you, do you hear me?”

“I can help!” the boy cried desperately.

“I have no doubt that you can in most situations, but this is not one of them. If you come with me, I’ll spend the whole time worrying about you, which will put us both into danger.”

“Then why don’t you stay with me? You’re the princess, you have to stay safe!”

“Henry, it’s _because_ I’m the princess that I have to go. Those people out there don’t have any training in fighting, they are defenseless, and they are here because they are serving my family and I. I have to do everything in my power to save them,” Emma told him gently, one hand on his jaw, her thumb stroking his cheek. “ _Please_ , Henry.”

Tears sprung to his eyes, but he nodded reluctantly, stepping into the large wooden wardrobe, settling between two of her gowns. The princess closed the doors behind him, and she pulled a chair in front of the door, to conceal him further. Putting a hand on the door, hearing the boy’s quiet sniffles, Emma told him:

“Stay safe, Henry. I love you.”

And grabbing the candelabra on her way out, she was gone.

\--------

Emma creeped silently down the corridor, looking regularly behind her. She was heading towards the servants’ quarters, knowing that the people who lived there were mostly maids. None of them would know how to defend themselves against armed bandits. Emma had met no one in the minutes since she had left her rooms, but the sounds coming from the hallway a few yards in front of her proved it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Just before she reached the end of the corridor, she heard a scream followed by the sounds of several heavy objects falling to the ground. A few seconds later, Daisy appeared at the end of the corridor, still screaming, a cackling pirate following closely behind her making kissing sounds.

Before she could take more than three steps to go help her friend, the pirate, no longer cackling, reappeared, running even faster back the way he came as if he had the hounds of hell at his heels. Emma stared in amazement as Granny appeared in her night clothes, her bonnet slightly askew, squaring herself before shooting her crossbow in the pirate’s direction, quickly reloading  it from a quiver at her hip. _Was that quiver knitted?!_ Emma boggled at the vision in front of her, her raised arms dropping to her sides.

The movement attracted Granny’s attention, who swung in its direction, aiming the crossbow at Emma. Raising her hands hurriedly, the princess stepped into the light, her heart in her throat. As soon as the older woman recognized Emma, she lowered her weapon before hurrying to her and dragging the young royal back in the shadows by the elbow.

“What on earth are you doing here Princess? Are you trying to get hurt or worse? This is no time to go for a stroll!” Granny hissed at her, shaking the arm she was still holding.

Emma frowned before wrenching her arm from the woman’s grip, “I’m here to defend my castle, what does it look like?”

“Oh, and you plan to beat back a whole pirate crew with your little candlestick?”

“And what else should I do? Cower under my bed like a damsel in distress? While the whole castle is ransacked and everyone I know is in danger?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, girlie. I have enough work protecting the girls from those boors without having to worry about your pretty head too,” Granny growled, advancing towards Emma, lightning in her eyes and thunder in her voice. “If you want to be useful, go barricade yourself in your rooms. I’m sure your father and your brother are already looking for you as it is.”

“No they’re not, Henry would have told them — ”

Granny gripped Emma’s arm again. _This was becoming a habit_. “Henry? What do you mean, Henry?”

“I left him hidden in my rooms, so he’d be safe.”

“Let me get this clear: right now, Henry’s in your quarters. Alone. During a pirate raid.”

“Yes, he’s in the wardrobe, but why — ”

“Girl, what are pirates after?” Granny whispered urgently, gripping Emma’s arm tighter, making her wince.

“Treasure, but — ”

“ _And where are they most likely to go and get it?_ ”

“I don’t —“ And then it hit Emma. Apart from the treasure rooms, the most valuable objects were in the royal wing– _her_ wing. Her eyes widening in horror, she looked at Granny. Henry was in danger. She needed to go back, _now_.

Seeing where Emma’s thoughts had lead her, the older woman simply told her, “Go,” before turning her and pushing her in the direction of the royal wing. Throwing all caution to the wind, the princess ran back towards her rooms, hoping she wasn’t too late. She didn’t see anyone, the guards most likely fending off the attack, until at the turn of the last corridor, just as her doors came into view—

“Hello, lovely,” a gravelly voice said behind her. Fear trickled down Emma’s spine like cold water, making her heart stop and then beat double time as she whirled around, her candlestick raised as two shapes stepped out of the shadows. With growing horror, Emma realized she was facing two of the pirates. The smaller one, the one who had talked, was standing slightly in front of his companion, his hand on his sword. The other pirate stood behind him, his dark eyes focused on Emma, his shaggy red beard appearing crimson in the torchlight.

Instinct took over, and Emma started running again, even faster than before. She resisted the temptation to turn around, not wanting to risk tripping. The princess crashed through the door of her rooms, before doubling back and putting her weight on the heavy wood, slamming and locking it in the same movement.

Just in time, too; only a few seconds after, a heavy body slammed on the other side, making the wood tremble. It would not hold for long. In a frenzy, Emma looked around her, searching for something to block the door with. However, everything was either too light to be a real hindrance or too heavy for her to move. She nonetheless dragged all her chairs to the door, putting them in a pile against the wooden panels as they shuddered against the pirates’ assault, knowing it wouldn’t be much use. She then ran towards her bedroom, also closing the doors and locking them. With a screeching noise, she pushed her dressing table across the entrance as a crack sounded from her parlor.

“Emma?”

With a small cry, Emma whirled around, clutching at her chest, her fingers tangling in the chain around her neck. She could see through the dim light offered by the burning harbor that Henry was trying to get out of the wardrobe, but that the chair in front of it was preventing him from doing so. The _heavy_ chair. Emma rushed to it, and with a grunt, she put it on top of the vanity to add more weight to her little barricade.

“Emma?”

Right at that moment, she heard a mighty crash as her outer door gave way. Taking a few steps back, she bumped into Henry. She grabbed him by the shoulders with one hand and put her other hand on his mouth, dragging him in her retreat until Emma’s back hit the far wall. A fist thumped against the door, as a deep voice rumbled. “Girlie? Come on out, pet, we just want to talk.”

 _Lie_ . Thinking fast, she looked at Henry, who was struggling against her grip, looking at her with frantic eyes. _They didn’t know he was here_. If they didn’t know he was here, they wouldn’t look for him. But where could she hide him that they wouldn’t search for valuables?

 _The balcony_. Turning the boy towards her, crouching in front of him the same way she had done a few minutes earlier, Emma whispered as the pirates renewed their attempts to break through the door, loud thumps echoing in the room.

“Henry, listen. You’re going to go on the balcony, and I’m going to lock the doors behind you.”

“What? No! You can’t stay here, we can hide together!”

“Henry, I can’t. They know I’m here, and they won’t stop looking until they find me. You, however, should be safe as long as you stay put.”

Just at that moment, a huge crack sounded, the noise of something massive pounding on the door setting the furniture in the room shaking with its force. _Why was no one coming?_ Taking action, Emma grabbed Henry’s shoulders, and guided him to the balcony doors. Opening the curtains, she unlocked the door with trembling hands, opening it and shoving a protesting Henry outside while telling him again to be quiet. Tears in her eyes, she closed it again and locked it. She then wrenched the curtains closed again, turning away and rubbing her eyes.

Looking around, she again looked for something to defend herself with, even more fruitlessly than the first time, as she had left the candlestick in her front room. The shocks against her door intensified, and, with a creak, the dressing table started to shift. There was nothing she could use, unless you counted her hangers or the bed warmer, which was the heaviest thing she had in her room that she could still lift.

 _Wait_.

The bed warmer, with its long handle and heavy pan and, hopefully, with its hopefully still hot coals inside. This could give her an advantage, if she managed to hit them with it. It could give her an opening to run again, taking them with her, far from Henry. Tugging it from under her mattress, she went to hide behind her dressing screen, crouching down barely a few seconds before her little barricade gave way. Through the space between two of the panels, Emma saw one of the pirates shoving his shoulder through the opening and pushing the dressing table, before kicking the chair away as if it were nothing but a toy.

The two men entered the room, pausing just inside the door, looking for her. None of the men even spared a glance towards her chest of drawers, even with some of her jewels out and sparkling in the firelight coming from outside.

“Lovely? I know you’re here,” the smaller man said, gesturing to his companion to stay in front of the door as he took a step forward. “We can feel it, lovely. You can run, but you cannot hide. Come out, little mouse.”

Emma closed her eyes tightly, trying not to whimper in fear. They were looking for her. They were here to take _her_. The problem was, if they weren’t looking for riches, but for a person, they would go check the balcony, and find her hiding charge. She had to act, and fast. Once they knew where she was, they wouldn’t linger, and Henry would be safe. It was either her, or him. While there was no question in her mind that she would not let any harm come to Henry, her legs were frozen in fear. What could she do?

The choice was taken out of her hands as a shadow fell across her. Emma opened her eyes and looked up. Staring at her through the gap between the screen’s panels, the smaller pirate was looking at her, smirking.

“Found you.”

Moved only by fear, Emma sprung from behind her hiding spot, swinging the bed warmer towards her assaillant, hitting him on the face with a sizzling sound and a shower of embers, making him bend in half and scream in pain.

The princess ran towards her door and the remaining pirate, swinging her pan again, hoping that surprise and his unwieldy size would hinder his reactions. However, Emma’s hopes were in vain, as he easily caught the handle of the bed warmer, wrenching it from her hands, the momentum causing her to spin out of control and stumble backwards into him. With hands large enough to circle her upper arms, the giant caught her, pulling her back against his chest before she could get away. Emma tried to break free, but her slippered feet were no match against his heavy boots. The ox barely grunted as she tried to hit him in the shins, and she winced at the pain she felt in her heels.

“Oh you bit...ty, that fucking hurts,” the pirate she had hit grunted, finally straightening up, half of his face burnt red, a bump appearing on his temple as he gingerly prodded it.

“I try to be nice, and this is how you repay me? You’re gonna _pay_ for that.”

Emma froze, looking at him. He was glaring at her, holding his head carefully. When he looked at her, she saw the rage mixed with pain in his eyes. She would not be able to reason with him, and she needed to get them away from here before they discovered Henry, or the boy made his presence known. At that moment, all her readings as a child came back to her. Maybe all those hours studying pirate lore and pirate tales would finally be useful for something other than childish flights of fancy. With as much confidence as she could muster in the situation, she raised her chin and looked the smaller pirate in the eye:

“Parley.”

“What?” the giant holding her said, as his companion blinked in surprise.

“I said parley. According to pirate law, you have to take me to your captain, and no harm can befall me in the meantime.”

“I know what parley is, girlie. But pirate law only applies to pirates.”

“No, no, no, McCullough. If the lady wants us to take her to the Captain, then to the Captain we shall take her,” the pirate in front of Emma said, looking between her chest and his companion with a triumphant smile, making the princess shiver in distaste.

McCullough shifted, then chuckled, “Aye. But you do realize, girl, that it also means you’ll have to come with us peacefully, right?”

“You know what happens to pirates who break parley, don’t you?” The second pirate added, still smiling, as if he were looking forward to her breaking her word.

Ice once again crawled along Emma’s spine, because she knew.

Death.

Death was what awaited oath breakers according to pirate law.

_What had she gotten herself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week, Emma meets the mysterious pirate captain!


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you to my two betas, Kit and Devon, who helped me beat this chapter into submission.

The trek towards the dungeons had gone disappointingly effortlessly, the two pirates taking advantage of the reigning chaos to sneak their captive out without anyone noticing. They had exited through the very same hole that had seen blown in the outer wall from her balcony what felt like ages ago, but must have been an hour at most. As the smaller pirate had clambered down to the water’s level, weirdly muttering into his coat collar, she had surreptitiously looked up in the direction of her balcony, trying to see if Henry was looking down.

However, the night had been too dark for the princess to see anything, the moon hidden behind a thick cover of clouds and the only light coming from the blazing harbor. From across the water, the towering flames had cast dismal shadows onto the walls, looking like skeletal hands trying to reach for the castle’s inhabitants. Emma frowned. She could barely discern the shape of her balcony in the flickering light; how had the big pirate  – McCullough, was it? – managed to see her with no light at all? He must have quite the sharp vision, as well as the strength of an ox, as evidenced by his iron grip on her upper arm.

A dull thud on the rocks just below her interrupted the princess’ musings. Emma looked down sharply. A dinghy, which had definitely not been here before, was floating quietly in the water, waiting patiently for its passengers. Where had it come from? Where was the person who had rowed it there? Had it been towed while she had been distracted?

A little push from McCullough, who had stayed silently at her side up until then, propelled her forward, though it was with reluctance and a lot of caution that Emma started climbing down the wet rocks. She wished she had been wearing more practical footwear, her slippers not affording her much grip on the slick surface. Just before reaching the boat, her foot slipped from underneath her, making her fall forward. Before she hit the ground, a strong arm caught her by the waist, lifting her back on her feet before instantly releasing her. Turning her head, expecting McCullough, Emma saw the pirate whose name she did not know staring at her, his eyes glinting in the feeble light.

“Careful, lovely, wouldn’t want you to take a dip again before you see the captain, eh?”

Emma huffed, turning her head away, before freezing in dismay. What did he mean, “again”? How did he know – 

“In we go, then.”

The princess startled, not having heard McCullough come behind her. Taking a hold of her elbow, he helped her step into the rowboat and sit on the middle bench. He then sat behind her, while the other pirate settled in front of her, kicking the floor of the boat twice. Before she could react, the boat jerked as it began to advance, apparently of its own volition. Emma startled, looking around her.  _ What kind of sorcery was this? _

The pirate facing her was apparently amused by her surprise, judging by his low rumbling laugh. A chuckle from behind her told her his companion shared his amusement, and Emma shifted uncomfortably, turning her head away to hide the embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

Looking everywhere but at her captors as the boat slowly advanced, her eyes were naturally attracted by the only source of light around her, the burning harbor. She saw with horror that most of the docked ships were on fire, and that some of the jetties were starting to burn as well. Men, women, and children were running everywhere, trying to quench the fires and, in some cases, throwing barrels in the water. Emma stared in bafflement, until she understood. The powder kegs. They were throwing the powder kegs in the water to avoid an explosion. Misthaven was effectively disarming itself, right in front of her eyes. 

Looking to the left end of the harbor, she watched as a large group of people swarmed around a cluster of three ships. While the two ships on the sides were burning, fire licking up their masts, the one in the middle seemed intact, its deck crowded by a dozen men. The fire was so bright the scene was illuminated as if it were day. Emma saw some men releasing ( _ unfurling _ , her brain provided) the sails, others throwing kegs in the water, while yet another was bent over the helm, trying to turn it with no apparent success. He let go, kicking it in anger, before hurrying to the stern, looking overboard at the rudder. 

As he straightened, his eyes fell on the little dinghy, zeroing in on Emma. Even from this distance, she could see his head cocking curiously as he narrowed his eyes. Hope flared within her chest. Would he give the alert? She was not that far from the harbor, and, despite what this morning’s mishap could let people think, Misthaven’s princess was a good swimmer. Henry was safe in the castle, and surely the two pirates would not try to swim after her and risk detection. If she managed to take them by surprise, she had a chance to escape.

However, before she could signal anything to the sailor, screams tore his attention – and hers – away, as they both saw with horror that the mast of the ship on the left was slowly tilting, its base eaten by the fire, and falling right onto the immobilized ship. The men on deck scrambled towards safety, either running down the gangplank if they were close enough or heading towards the stern or the bow and diving overboard, preferring the frigid embrace of the harbor’s water to a fiery death. 

Emma turned away, looking at her feet as she felt tears pricking her eyes while the rowboat inexorably continued on. She couldn’t stand to see her father’s navy, his pride and joy, being burnt to ashes and her subjects harmed. Thinking about her father, she couldn’t help but worry about her family’s safety. Was her Papa okay? Was David fighting for his life at that exact moment? Was Henry still hidden safely on her balcony? 

Emma raised her head when she heard the pirate in front of her shifting. Meeting his gaze, she saw that they had turned, as his face was illuminated by the fires that were now behind her. She had expected to see some kind of derision or contempt on his face, but to her surprise all she saw was a neutral expression. Considering his previous behavior, Emma was surprised he didn’t take the opportunity to mock her. He must still be angry at her for the bed warmer, and he must still be in severe pain. However, as she looked at his face, she saw that the burns were not that severe, his skin red only as if he had been sunburnt with no blisters in sight. The princess could have sworn his injuries were more serious in her bedroom.  _ Must have been a trick of the light. _

Her gaze shifted behind her captor as she saw a huge black shape starting to loom over them, getting larger and higher as the rowboat headed straight for it. Gasping, Emma realized it was a ship. How had she not seen it before? It was in full view of her windows, as well as of the harbor, floating near the center of the bay. Studying it more closely, Emma saw that it was completely black from top to bottom. Rather than reflect the feeble light coming from the harbor’s fire, it seemed to absorb it. Strangely, it made her think of her medallion.

Emma stiffened.  _ She was wearing a pirate medallion. _ Under the pretense of fiddling with her dressing gown, she glanced down, and saw that the pendant had again slipped from underneath her nightgown, and that it was now resting in plain sight over her cleavage. Emma’s heart sped up. When had it slipped out? Had the pirates seen it? With the way the smaller one had been looking at her chest earlier, there was no way he hadn't spotted it. Was that what he had been looking at? 

Emma’s mind swirled, fear taking a hold of her. She was going on a pirate ship with a pirate medallion.  _ What had she gotten herself into? _

Not for the first time in the last hour, Emma felt as if she had gotten in over her head. She was walking – well, floating – right into the lion’s den, and no one except Henry knew where she had gone. The princess knew there were rules, that the pirates had a code they respected. Emma had read all about it when she was little, even memorizing by heart the version of the Code she had found in a tome entitled  _ The Habits and Customes of Pyrates _ : people asking for parley were under the protection of the captain whose ship they were on or traveling to. If harm befell those who had invoked parley, the captain and his crew became pariahs, and were hunted by the whole pirate community.

But what if this particular captain did not respect the Code? He had small incentive to do so as she was not a pirate, and, as far as he knew, no one knew where she was. In her panic to protect Henry, she had not thought the consequences of her actions through. She could hear her preceptor’s voice in her mind, telling her to weigh her actions before doing anything, that a princess’ deeds had more consequences than she could wrap her teenage head around. What would he think of her now? Here she was, in a rowboat, in the middle of the night, and in the company of pirates. She could hear his exasperated sigh as if he were sitting next to her, and see the way he would pinch the bridge of his nose before looking to the skies, as if asking for some celestial help. Yes, it was definitely better for Emma’s self-esteem that the preceptor had had to leave the kingdom in a hurry a couple of years before, and as such was not a witness to this debacle.

As she had been wondering over her own rashness, the rowboat had smoothly come to rest against the hull of the black ship, softly knocking against it. McCullough –  who had been so quiet Emma had almost forgotten about him – stood up and grabbed a rope ladder that was hanging down to the water. With a jerk of his head, he indicated Emma should stand up and start climbing. Apprehension filled her heart as she looked up at the towering ship. How was she supposed to go up this ladder in the dark, and in her nightgown and slippers? She was going to fall to her death in the water below for the second time that day, and this time she doubted someone would come save her.

“Take off your slippers, you’ll be less likely to fall that way,” the smaller pirate spoke up gruffly, getting up as well and making the boat rock slightly. “Don’t look down, and I’ll be right behind you. Nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded with a smirk.

Emma looked at him skeptically, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Yes, I’m sure you have my best interests at heart,” she told him in a curt tone. 

The princess nevertheless followed his advice and took off her slippers. McCullough took them from her, his large hand dwarfing the footwear, and put her delicate leather and satin shoes in one of his coat pockets. Emma wobbled towards the ladder before latching onto it with both hands when the boat lurched unexpectedly. Steadying herself, she took advantage of the fact she was turned away from the two pirates to put the medallion back in her nightgown, making sure to shove it down so it wouldn’t come out again. Once she was satisfied with her work, Emma looked up again and steeled herself.

Grabbing the first rung, the princess started to climb carefully. She made sure to keep her eyes on the next rung, wincing occasionally as the rough rope bit into her feet or hands. When Emma had gotten up a dozen feet, she felt the ladder shudder. Looking down, she saw the pirate she had burned starting to climb, his eyes on her. Turning away quickly, she started to climb faster, not wanting him too close to her when she was so vulnerable, all too aware of the disadvantages of her current position.

Halfway up, she accidentally stepped on her nightgown in her hurry and lost her footing. With a small gasp, she fumbled to find a rung with her feet, meeting only empty air and the smooth, damp surface of the hull. Suddenly, she felt a rough hand grab her ankle and yank on it.

“Let me go!” she snapped reflexively.

“Then stop trying to kick me in the face, you foolish girl!” came the snapped reply, as the pirate forcibly guided her foot to a rung before releasing it. “Now,  _ climb _ ,” he growled when she had found a better grip.

With a huff, Emma resumed her ascension, her heart still beating frantically. That boor was really getting on her nerves, even if it was the second time he had helped her.  _ He was only doing it because of the parley law, anyway. _ She wouldn’t mind pouring another pan of embers on his smirking face, just to teach him some manners. Or a kettle of boiling water, Emma thought vindictively. It was with these violent but cathartic thoughts that Emma finished her climb. Not used to this kind of exercise, they distracted her from her burning arm muscles, as well as the pain on the bottom of her bare feet, where the friction of the rope was rubbing them nearly raw.

Once she reached the deck, she was unexpectedly grabbed under her armpits, lifted unceremoniously over the railing and plopped down roughly on her feet, making her stumble back and lean against the wooden handrail. Looking up (and up) at the man who had grabbed her, all she could see in the darkness was a tall silhouette whose shiny bald head reflected the light from a lantern coming from right behind him. The two stood at a standstill, observing each other, before a couple of seconds later, the small pirate jumped over the railing and landed next to her, distracting both of them. 

“What the hell, Gill? You were sent to retrieve the coin, not to make friends!” the bald pirate barked before his crewmate had even finished straightening.

“And I did,” Gill told him, his tone surly. “Girlie here wanted to come talk to the captain.”

“Did she, now? Would she also like a tour of the ship while she’s here?”

“ _ She _ asked for parley,” Emma snapped, annoyed the two men were talking about her as if she were not there, as McCullough’s head appeared over the railing. “And she’d like to be taken to the captain, if you don’t mind.”

“She will speak when spoken to, unless she wants to meet Davy Jones,” the bald-headed pirate growled, leaning menacingly towards her.

Emma involuntarily took a step back at his words, getting closer to Gill and McCullough in the process. She did not trust them, but she preferred her chances with them rather than Tall, Bald and Growly. Rallying, she tried again, as she heard steps coming closer, “Now listen here, pirate law states that...”

“I said, quiet!” the new pirate bellowed, taking a step towards her, his hand flying up through the air as if to strike her. Emma flinched instinctively as Gill shouted “Fagan, no!” while McCullough’s large hand caught her by the back of her dressing gown, pulling her to his side, and out of Fagan’s reach.

The tall man’s hand never had a chance to descend, as a flash of silver stopped its descent. The air shifted as a smooth voice purred, “The lady said she was here to parley, Mr. Fagan. I believe that puts her under my protection, wouldn’t you agree?”

Fagan audibly gulped before answering, “Aye, Captain.”

“Then would you care to explain what you were doing with your hand in the air? It’s quite  _ bad form _ to strike a lady, Mr. Fagan.”

At the captain’s words, Emma felt the three other pirates stiffen. Fagan, who until a few seconds ago had been an intimidating and commanding presence, seemed to shrink on himself.

Peering at the new arrival from McCullough’s side, she couldn’t see much. The light from the lantern showed he was smaller than Fagan, although not by much, and that he wore some kind of long leather coat that reached to his calves.  But his voice told her plenty about his character. The clipped accent and smooth tone brought the image of elegance to mind, but the iron strength and dangerous purr made her think of a panther, ready to strike. It was obvious that the captain was not a man to be trifled with and Emma shivered, knowing she needed to be careful around him. 

Raising her eyes slightly, the princess saw that Fagan’s arm was still aloft, restrained by whatever the captain was holding in his hand. It looked like some sort of hook, glinting coldly in the light. 

It was then Emma’s turn to stiffen. A pirate crew, a black ship, a captain with a hook.  _ No, it couldn’t be _ . It didn’t exist, it was a legend. The princess felt ice trickling down her spine as she saw both men lower their arms, shifting in such a manner that the light hit the captain’s left arm, and her suspicions were confirmed; the captain was not holding a hook in his hand,  _ the hook was his hand. _

She was on the  _ Black Roger _ , a ghost ship rumored to have been haunting the seas, pillaging and plundering for at least three centuries. It was said to be crewed by evil spirits and a captain who was so vile hell had thrown him back out, keeping only his hand as a warning. He had replaced it with a hook, which he used to tear out the hearts of his victims before eating them. Well, that was the story she knew.  _ Folklore of the Seas _ , one of Emma’s favorite books when she was a child, had filled her mind with a multitude of horrific images about the the ghost who now stood in the flesh before her. She knew most of these stories were only old wives’ tales to frighten young children, but those kind of stories usually held a kernel of truth - one she was now face-to-face with.  _ This was Captain Hook. _

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me,” the leather-coated shadow said smugly, startling Emma. Had she spoken aloud? “Then it appears you have me at a disadvantage, lass. May I know who I am speaking to?”

Emma stiffened. Under no circumstance could they know who she was, or she and her whole kingdom would be in great danger. She thought fast. She needed to make herself as common, as unremarkable as possible. Did she invent a whole new identity, or did she stick close to the truth? Griffiths, one of her father’s counselors, had once told her that the more a lie stuck to the truth, the more believable it was. She decided to follow his advice, and to thank him if it worked and she went home safe. 

“My name is Emma, I’m a maid at the castle,” she said, looking down demurely at her still bare feet.

“And does Emma have a last name?”

“Of course she – I do. It’s…” Emma hesitated, before warm brown eyes flashed in her mind. “It’s Swan. Emma Swan.”

The air became deathly quiet as the four men stilled. “Swan, you say?” said Gill, before being quietened down by a quick gesture from Hook.  

“Well, Swan, Emma Swan, welcome aboard the  _ Black Roger _ . Now, what could be so important that you asked for parley in the middle of a pirate raid?”

Drawing herself up, Emma told the captain, staring at where she thought his eyes were, “I’d feel more comfortable speaking to someone I can see, if you don’t mind, Captain.”

McCullough chuckled next to her, as did Hook as he took a few deliberate steps walking to the lantern and… hooking it. The captain brought it and himself closer to the princess, raising it so the light fell on his face when he was a few feet from her. 

Emma had to draw on all her diplomatic training not to react. Where she had been expecting a scarred, weathered and ruthless-looking man to match the legends, she found herself looking instead into striking blue eyes set under black eyebrows. He was younger than she had expected, not more than a few years older than her, and apart from his missing hand and a little scar under his right eye, his skin was smooth and tanned, sprinkled liberally with chest hair where his shirt gaped open. The legends had gotten something right: he did look devilish, although more in a sinful manner than the monstrous way she had imagined.

If the way he was now grinning was any indication, she had not managed to keep a neutral face. Huffing again, Emma shifted, crossing her arms and surreptitiously putting a few more inches between them. This did not deter the pirate in any way, as he now took his time looking at her, trailing his eyes lazily over her face and her figure, his eyes coming to a stop on her chest, before his feral grin widened. 

_ Really? _ thought Emma. Looking down, ready to pull her dressing gown over her cleavage to shield it from his gaze, the princess froze. The medallion was out.  _ How _ ? How was it possible? She had put it inside her gown not ten minutes earlier, and there was no way it could have slipped out! It was almost as if it wanted to be seen. But that was stupid; it was just a piece of jewelry, an inanimate object.  _ Right? _ Emma thought, as the light flickering over the medallion made it look like it was winking at her.

When she raised her eyes, she again met the gaze of the captain, who was looking at her calculatingly.

“So, Miss Swan? While it is certainly a  _ pleasure  _ to see such a lovely face grace the deck of my humble ship, what is it you want?”

“I’m here to negotiate your retreat from Misthaven.”

The captain laughed, looking back at his men, who were also laughing. “Now, why would I do that when it’s going so well for me, hm? What could you possibly have that would convince me to call my men back?”

Emma stilled. Well, when he put it like that… Princess Emma had access to lots of incentive, but Emma the maid did not. Then, inspiration struck. Emma remembered all the glances towards her medallion, Fagan’s remark when she had come aboard and something Gill had said in her room suddenly came back to her.  _ We can feel it. _ Not you, _ it _ . They wanted the medallion. Emma just hoped they wanted it enough to do what she said.

“I have this,” she said, taking the necklace off and showing it to the pirates. “This is what you’re looking for, right? Leave the castle, and I’ll give it to you.”

The captain raised an eyebrow, his eyes not leaving her face. “Why would I want such a little trinket when I can have all the riches this castle and town possess?”

“Because you don’t care about those, this is what you want! That’s what he said,” Emma said, her tone more forceful, as she pointed at Fagan.

“Did he, now?” Hook said, looking almost nonchalantly at the bald pirate, who shifted uncomfortably, before turning back towards Emma as a cannon shot sounded across the bay. “Well even if it was – and I’m not saying it is – I’d like to point out that, since you are on my ship, I  _ do  _ have your necklace.”

_ Ah _ . “But pirate law – “

“Applies to pirates. Are you perchance a pirate, lass? Because one might wonder how a lowly maid such as yourself came in possession of such a lovely bauble.”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re implying,” Emma snapped, on the defensive.  _ Even if technically… _

“Oh, a gift from your sweetheart, maybe? A family heirloom?” Hook asked, a sarcastic smirk pulling at his lips.

“That is none of your business, just know I’ve had it with me for a long time. Now, are you interested or not?”

“Oh, I’m definitely interested love, but not in your little deal. As I said, your little necklace is worth nothing to me, not when the crown jewels are probably making their way back to me right as we speak.”

Emma stiffened, remembering that her castle, and the people she knew and loved were currently under attack. How could she have forgotten, when more and more cannon shots were sounding over the water? Tired of this discussion, and of the whole situation, she decided to try bluffing.

“Well, if you don’t want it, then I guess you’re right, it  _ is  _ worthless. Might as well get rid of it,” she finished, thrusting the hand holding the necklace over the railing, pretending to throw it in the sea.

The pirates’ reaction was immediate. Their shouts of “No!” resonated on deck as they all took a step forward, the captain holding his hand towards her, his eyes wide in alarm.

Still keeping her hand over the water, Emma smiled sweetly, opening her hand and letting the pendant dangle from its chain. She saw with dark satisfaction the four pirates sigh in relief, their earlier bravado forgotten.

“Not so worthless after all, hm?”

“Congratulations, love, you’ve bested us. Now, why don’t you come here so we can talk?” Hook coaxed, taking a small step towards her. Despite his calm tone, Emma could see trepidation in his eyes, telling her his bravado was just a front, and that she had touched a nerve.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? Take one more step and you’ll have to take a dive to get the necklace. I said, don’t move!” she snapped at Gill without taking her eyes off Hook, merely turning her head in his direction.

At that moment, another cannon shot sounded, followed very closely by a splash. It took Emma a moment to comprehend the alarm of his tone.  _ Someone must have mustered the cannoneers at the fort.  _ Hook’s eyes briefly looked behind her before fixating on her face again, all traces of a smile erased from his face.

“What are you terms?” he demanded.

“I told you, I want your men to leave the castle and the town immediately, and for you to never come back here.”

Hook’s eyes seemed to glint, but Emma thought it might have been a reflection from the lantern.

“Is that all? If I promise to hold these terms, you’ll give us the medallion?”

Emma straightened, feeling the importance of the moment. Her answer could secure her family and her kingdom’s safety. However, before the princess could take a decision, she had to be completely sure that he would hold his end of the bargain.

“Do you? Do you promise to respect our deal?” Emma asked Hook, staring at him intently, ready to catch the slightest hint of dishonesty. If she had even the smallest doubt, she would throw the medallion as far in the sea as she could in one direction, and dive in the water in the other. She’d rather try to swim to shore than stay on the ship with no leverage.

“I give you my word that I will do exactly as we agreed,” the pirate told her. Narrowing her eyes in concentration, Emma didn’t detect any lies in what he had told her. “And will  _ you  _ hold your part of the bargain, lass?”

With a nod, she answered, “Yes, I will.”

“Then we have a deal. Gill,” he barked over his shoulder, “call the men back, tell them not to dally.”

As Gill hurried to comply, muttering under his breath, the pirate captain turned back towards Emma, and held his hand out expectantly. Still distrustful, the princess looked at him indecisively, wondering if this was a trap. “How do I know this isn’t just a ruse? How can he contact your crew without leaving the ship?”

The captain pursed his lips in aggravation, before reaching inside his shirt, removing a necklace on the end of which hung a little shell. “Mermaid magic. Allows us to contact whoever holds one of those. We all do. Now, the necklace, if you please.” As Emma continued to hesitate, he sighed irritably, eyes flicking back toward the harbor as another splash sounded, much closer than the last. “Why don’t you try something new, lass, it’s called trust.”

Even as she brought her arm back over the railing, the princess looked at him defiantly. “I’ll never trust a pirate - especially one that destroyed my home,” she spat, dropping the medallion in his outstretched hand. 

As soon as the medallion left her hand, she felt a small weight lift from her shoulders. Was it because this ordeal was finally coming to an end, and she was going to go home, or because of the necklace itself? If you’d asked her a few minutes earlier, she’d have said the former, but she still didn’t understand how the necklace had come out of her nightgown. She was honestly quite glad to be rid of it. Ever since she had taken it out this morning, her day had been getting worse and worse. 

“It’ll be a hard pill to swallow, but somehow I’ll survive,” Hook drawled, rolling his eyes. “Gill, are you finished?” 

When the older pirate nodded, the captain turned his back on Emma, shouting to his men, “Start preparing the ship for departure! Gill, McCullough, go secure the ammunition. Fagan, start charting our course. I want us out of here in fifteen minutes at most. Now, go!”

_ Wasn’t he forgetting something? _ “Wait! Hook, wait!” Emma said as she ran after the captain, grabbing his sleeve above his hook and ignoring his look of warning. “What about me? You have to take me back ashore!”

Shaking his arm from her grasp, the captain drew himself to his full height, raising his eyebrows haughtily. “I have to do no such thing. What  gave you that idea?”

“I’m here under the protection of parley, it’s pirate law that you have to ensure my safe passage to your ship and my safe return, you illiterate idiot!” the princess said, getting frantic in her panic.

The pirate’s expression turned stormy, his patience finally at an end. “First, Swan, while I do have to _ ensure your safe passage _ , I am under no obligation to take you back.”

“Second,” he took a step towards her, forcing her to step back to keep her distance, “you are not a pirate, and thus not subject to pirate law. I was merely humoring you out of courtesy.” 

“Third,” he took another step, his tone dropping in pitch, and it was almost as if he was dragging the shadows down from the night sky with his voice. “If you wanted me to take you back, you should have specified it in your terms, which you did not. 

“Fourth,” he took one last step forward and Emma felt her back hit the railing. He paused, leaning towards her, casting a looming shadow that she could feel to her very bones, “that’s  _ Captain  _ Hook to you, lass.”

He whispered the last words to her, soft as a lover’s sigh. She could feel his warm breath brush across her cheek, and she told herself afterward that the vicious shiver that crept up her spine was from the contrast in temperature, and had nothing to do with the proximity of the man before her. But his spell was broken as he straightened, putting a tiny bit of breathing room between them, leaving Emma able to think clearly again.

“You can’t keep me here! You have to take me back!” Emma cried, feeling tears spring to her eyes as she realized the gravity of her situation. She had tried to keep from being kidnapped by hiding her identity, and yet here she was, unable to leave the ship as it prepared to sail away. 

“ I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request,” Hook said, leaning towards her, making her hold her breath in trepidation. “It means no,” he whispered in her ear, before suddenly leaning back and striding towards the helm, taking the steps two at a time. “Welcome to the Black Roger, Miss Swan!”

Emma could only stare at him, paralyzed in horror as he turned his full attention to the helm and Fagan. Even as she felt McCullough’s large hands close once again on her arms, dragging her somewhere, her eyes never left the man. 

Maybe the legends were right after all; Captain Hook really was a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, hope you enjoyed, next chapter will update next Wednesday!


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you to Kit and Devon, my two betas! I couldn't do it without you ladies! <3

“The whole harbor has been burnt down, as are almost all of the ships. It seems the attackers were not content with merely setting them on fire; several captains have reported that their rudders have also been sabotaged.”

David listened intently as Admiral Kratzig painted a grim picture in the early hours of the morning. The attack had been short but efficient, obviously planned meticulously. In less than two hours, the pirates had managed to isolate the castle by blowing up the bridge that was its only link towards the mainland and had incapacitated the whole fleet so they couldn’t be followed. The most infuriating thing of all, however, was that the pirates had left no one behind, either as casualties or as prisoners.

Miraculously, it seemed no one on their side had died either, although several soldiers had been harmed. They were currently being taken care of in the kitchen, Dr. Hirudinas and Granny having put aside their differences to treat the injured efficiently.

David had been with his father in the throne room when the first cannon shots had been heard and, while the guards had surrounded his father, he had rushed through the corridors, intent on finding this unknown enemy. And he had – seemingly endless waves of what appeared to be pirates, fighting and stealing everything that wasn’t bolted down. The prince was pretty sure he had seen one carrying  _ dresses  _ of all things at the other end of the corridor, a lady’s hat on his head. He must have imagined it, though. 

(He  _ hoped  _ he had been imagining it.)

In the rush of battle, the prince had not managed to learn anything about the attackers; all he had seen was that the pirates were soaked to the bone, which was curious, as the rain had stopped more than an hour before the assault had begun.  _ Had they swum to the castle? _ David had wondered as he stabbed a long-haired pirate through the stomach, letting him fall onto the silver plates he had been stealing. The thought had left his mind as he fought to advance through the corridors.

Throughout the battle, David had worried about Emma, and he had tried to reach her through the ambient chaos. His fears had only been assuaged when he had met Granny, who had told him that she had seen his sister and sent her back to her room with Henry before commanding him to defend the servants below. The prince had been so flabbergasted to see the cook wielding a crossbow as if she had been born with it that he had not thought twice about following her orders, going to protect the servants as cannons began to sound.

Not long after he had taken up his station in the servants’ quarters, the attack had ended as abruptly as it had begun. The pirates had retreated as one, but not before dropping some sort of smoke bombs that ensured they couldn’t be followed until it was too late. 

David must have imagined it, but he could swear he had seen the pirate he had gutted throwing a projectile in his direction, the swish of his long damp hair very recognizable. But that was impossible – the wound he had inflicted would prevent anyone from walking, much less throwing smoke bombs and running in the other direction.

Apart from the chaos the ruffians had wrought, no trace was left of their passage, nothing to lead the castle guard back to them. They hadn’t even left the corpses of their fallen crewmates behind. David had gone back to the place where he had killed the pirate, but there had been nothing there, no corpse nor loot – hell, not even blood, the grey stone pristine. It was as if their fight had never happened.

Something had bothered David as he returned to the throne room, but he hadn’t been able to figure out what it was until minutes later.

There hadn’t been any blood. Not a single drop of scarlet liquid had been splattered on the ground. A gut wound bled heavily, so there should have been some evidence of it, at least. Why would pirates clean blood out of the stone floor in the middle of a raid? Where would they even find the time?  _ It made no sense _ , the rational part of David’s mind told him. Another, less rational part kept reminding him of the pirate he had glimpsed at the end of the attack. But no one could get up after being run through with a broadsword.  _ No one human _ , the same fanciful part of his brain whispered.

David’s attention was brought back to the war council as Admiral Kratzig explained that from what they could see, apart from very small vessels, only the  _ Pride of Amphitrite _ and the _ Ruth’s Dream _ had been spared from the massacre, as they had been anchored in the estuary to make way for all the ships present for the previous day’s ceremony. 

The  _ Dream  _ was the newest and fastest ship owned by King Robert, named in honor of his wife for the tenth anniversary of her passing.  The  _ Pride  _ was the biggest ship in the fleet and its flagship, now under Cassidy’s command. When not used for diplomatic missions, it was pursuing pirates in Misthaven’s waters, taking or sinking countless ships. The fact that these two ships were still in working order was good news; the kingdom was not defenseless.

In their haste to regroup and plan a course of action, neither David nor his father could spare a moment to fetch Emma, but David had managed to snag a guard to retrieve her, knowing that his sister would be extremely displeased to be left out of the happenings in the throne room. He would have been concerned that she was not already there, but Granny’s words to him about Emma protecting Henry had the prince figuring she was probably with the boy. Still,  he had half expected to meet her in a corridor, still dressed in her nightgown and armed with the first thing she could use as a weapon, a sleep-deprived and furious avenging angel.

It was as the meeting began to die down that David realized the guard and his sister had not returned yet. It wasn’t like Emma to miss something as important as an emergency war council.

_ Where was she?  _ David wondered, tempted to excuse himself from the meeting to go look for her himself.  _ I’m giving her five more minutes _ , he thought, concentrating on the war council again.

David listened to Cassidy relate how he and the King had been the ones to start shooting the cannons in the bay in a grid pattern, guessing the pirates had to be coming from  _ somewhere  _ in that vicinity _. _ The newly appointed commodore explained that their theory had been confirmed when they had seen movement in the middle of the bay, sadly just out of reach of the cannons. But the rest of his explanation was cut short when a commotion sounded in the hall outside, metallic clatters and shouts quickly approaching before the doors burst open.

As the oaken doors swung open, Henry’s small form rushed through the room, straight for the King and David, dodging the guards who were trying to stop him, not wanting the child to interrupt the war council. The panicked look in his eyes made Emma's brother and father take several steps forward to meet him, especially when they realized he was alone.

“David,” the boy cried, finally reaching the prince. “Did you find Emma?”

“What do you mean, Henry?” the king asked, puzzlement giving way to worry. “Isn't she with you?”

“We're sorry, Your Majesty,” one of the guards said, clearly exhausted from his run, making David absent-mindedly note that they should change the training regimen of the royal guard if they could be outrun by a child, “we found him hiding on the balcony, no trace of the princess anywhere. Her rooms were a complete mess. Both sets of doors had been kicked in, and furniture was thrown everywhere in the room, as if... as if there had been a struggle.”

The throne room immediately broke out into alarmed whispers as officers began speculating amongst themselves. 

David and his father heard none of it, glancing at each other with horror. If Emma was not in her rooms, where was she? She could be anywhere in the castle... or worse,  _ outside  _ of it.

“Then where is she?” the king demanded, glaring at the poor guard.

Their thoughts were interrupted by Henry’s frantic voice, shouting above the din. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! The pirates took her!”

David felt ice trickle down his spine, his worst fears realized as a horrified “no” left his mouth. His sister had been captured by pirates, and was currently sailing away from her family in an unknown direction. They had to go after her, and they had to do it  _ now _ ; they couldn’t spare another minute.

Turning towards his father, the prince caught him by the shoulders. “We have to set sail  _ now _ ! With a bit of luck, we’ll be able to catch them before they get too far.”

Robert passed his hand over his mouth, obviously thinking about the best strategy. When Admiral Kratzig tried to intervene, the King silenced him with an impatient gesture of his hand. Decision made, he turned towards his officers, speaking in a clear voice.

“We will go after them. We cannot let such an affront go unanswered, and we must rescue the princess. Admiral Kratzig, I want you to assign all the men not concerned with control damage to prepare the  _ Pride of Amphitrite _ . It will leave port at high tide.”

“We can't wait that long! They'll be long gone if we wait for high tide!” David exploded, floored at his father's decisions. “Father, let me organize the preparations, and we'll leave as soon as we are done. We – “

“We? You are not leaving, David,” interrupted his father, looking at him wearily.

“What? Of course I'm going! It's Emma we're talking about, I will not stay here and twirl my thumbs while she's in danger!”

“You will do as I say, David,” the King said sharply, his brows furrowing, “You will stay here, safe, and head the repairs efforts. Commodore Cassidy will go rescue Emma, he's the best man for the j – “

“Cassidy?! Are you serious, father? Even in this situation, you try to push them together? He is not the best man, I am, I'll – “

“You will nothing, Prince David! I am your father, and your king, and you will show me the respect I am due!” his father bellowed, losing his calm. “How dare you insinuate I have anything but my daughter's best interests at heart! Cassidy is a better sailor than you, has better experience in chasing pirate ships and knows the waters around Misthaven as well as the back of his hand! He is the best man for this job, and not because I try to 'push them together,' as you say. How dare you?”

“He can head the mission, but I'm going with him,” David said, cowed by his father's outburst, but not enough to stand down.

“No, you're staying here. One of my heirs is already in jeopardy; I will not risk the other one.”

“My sister is in danger, and your priority is safekeeping the lineage?”

“She is my daughter, too! It kills me not to be able to go after her myself, or to send you! And I am not putting the lineage first, I'm putting the  _ kingdom _ first, as you should, as future king!”

David looked at his father wordlessly. The throne room was deathly silent, no one daring to even move as they witnessed their king and his heir apparent having one of the worst rows they had ever seen. The royal family always presented a united, harmonious front, and seeing two thirds of it in a screaming match was jarring for most of the officers.

A very small sound broke the silence, sounding as loud as a cannon shot. Every gaze in the room turned towards the source of the noise. Henry's mouth was quivering as he tried to stop any other sound from leaving his mouth, while fat tears rolled down his cheeks.

The whole evening, hell, the whole day, had finally caught up with the ten year-old, and his emotions had gotten the better of him. David looked at Henry helplessly, feeling even more guilt in having caused distress to his sister's charge.  _ Gods, Emma _ , he thought in despair as Cassidy came to Henry, putting his arm around his shoulder and pulling the boy to his side, silently offering him comfort as Henry hugged the tall man's waist.

David's eyes slid from Cassidy, who was very carefully not looking at him, to the other men present in the room, who wouldn't meet his eye either. His gaze stopped on his father, who was watching him wearily, appearing older than his years. As Henry continued to sob quietly, King Robert spoke, his gaze never leaving his son's. “Commodore Cassidy, you will leave as soon as the tide allows the  _ Pride _ to leave the bay. Prepare your crew.”

Before his ire could get the better of him again, David turned on his heel and left the throne room, looking straight ahead of him as men and officers alike scrambled out of his way.

~~~~~

David strode through the corridors, guilt eating at his mind. He had failed every member of his family in a few short hours. His sister had been kidnapped from under his nose, and was probably terrified at that moment. He had showed disrespect to his father in front of the whole admiralty, and had hurt him with his careless words. Even young Henry, who he considered like a little brother of sorts, had been hurt by his actions. He hadn't even been the one to comfort him.

After a few moments, David grew angry again.

His father didn't even want him to rescue his sister. How could he ask such a thing of him? He had done everything he could to protect Emma since they were children, especially after their mother's death. Of course, she was strong-headed and intelligent, and didn't really need him, but she was his  _ little sister _ . Now that she needed him, his father wanted to prevent him from fulfilling his role.

David knew he had duties, that as a prince he could not do as he wished. But it was not a question of his kingdom against his sister. Misthaven could deal perfectly well without him for a few days.

Emma couldn't.

The prince changed directions, heading towards the dungeons. He had a pirate to see about rescuing a princess.

~~~~~

Making sure not to be seen or heard by the castle servants scurrying in the corridors, David descended the stairs towards the dungeons. They were empty at this time of night, the uninjured guards having been dispatched either somewhere else in the castle in the wake of the attack or to prepare the _ Pride of Amphitrite _ .

The prince remembered seeing the pirate that Cassidy had caught the previous afternoon, when they had brought Mary Marg— the  _ thief _ to her cell. Seeing the leer on his black-bearded face, David had decided at the last minute to move the woman to a cell further down the block, not wanting to subject her to the pirate’s lecherousness. When he had left the dungeons, David had barely spared the prisoner a glance. He was not the first pirate to grace their cells, and he wouldn’t be the last.

When the prince turned towards the pirate’s cell, he froze. He could see that where there should have been a very thick stone wall, there only remained a giant hole, letting the sea breeze in. The bars had also been blown in, and David saw as he turned his head that they were laying in the opposite cell, the cannonball embedded in the far wall. The pirate’s cell was empty, no trace of the scraggly-haired man anywhere.

Was this why the pirates had attacked? They had wanted to free their crewmate? But this seemed like an awfully risky tactic. David couldn’t see any blood but there was a big chance the prisoner – who had only told them to call him “Ed” – was lying somewhere under the rubble. Perhaps he was still alive?

David went into Ed’s cell, looking for any sign of the pirate.

“He’s not here anymore,” a voice sounded behind him, making the prince whirl around.

Mary Margaret was leaning against the door of her own cell a few units down, looking at the prince, her slim face squeezed between two bars, which she held in her hands. David blinked at her. Despite the late hour and grim location, she looked like a little nymph, with her pale face and large green eyes. The prince shook himself. She had already bested him once today ( _ twice _ , a little voice whispered in his mind); he would not let her do so again.

“He left? Which way did he go?” he demanded, getting closer to her.

“Took a dive, trying to reach the ship,” the thief said, looking at him airily. “Of course, not before coming to say goodbye.”

“So the pirates did come to free him,” David muttered, rubbing his face in aggravation.

“Oh, I doubt it. He seemed pretty hostile towards them, once he recognized the ship. Said something about recognizing the sound of the cannons, because you never forget the cannons that sunk your ship,” she continued, examining her nails blithely. 

David pressed closer. “He told you the name of the ship?”

The thief looked at him sharply when she heard the urgency in his voice. “Why should I tell you?” she asked, almost snapping at him.

“Because they took my sister, and I need to find them!”

At this revelation, Mary Margaret drew back from the doors, looking at the prince consideringly. “What’s in it for me?”

“What? What do you mean what’s in it for–” David began, before seeing her raised eyebrow. Then, more coldly, he asked, “What do you want?”

“My freedom – what else?” the woman scoffed.

“And what guarantee do I have that you’re saying the truth? For all I know, the pirate didn’t tell you anything, and this is your latest scheme to get free.”

“None at all. But I’m not the one whose sister was kidnapped by pirates.”

“You – “ David growled, banging on the bars. But he stopped himself. The thorn in his side was right; right now, she was his only chance at finding Emma. “Fine. Tell me what you know, and you’ll get your freedom. But know this,” he continued, before she could say a word, “if you lie to me, and this leads to Emma being hurt or worse, I’ll find you. Already did it once, can do it twice. And when I do?” he said harshly, getting even closer to the bars, “When I do, you’ll wish the White Queen had found you instead.”

Mary Margaret’s answer was not the one he expected, or hoped for. She snorted, putting her hands on her hips, taking a step in his direction, “You really think you can frighten me with that kind of threat? ‘You’ll wish the White Queen had found you.’ Honey, that slag has more wickedness in her little finger than you’ll ever have in your whole life. No, really, you are truly charming in your naivety,” she concluded, walking to the back of her cell to sit down on her cot, leaning back on her hands.

“You seem to really hate her,” David said, remembering the face the bandit had made when he had mentioned the queen earlier.

“Hate her? Wouldn’t you hate the witch who has ruined your life and taken everything from you?” Mary Margaret bit out, jumping to her feet and stalking towards him. “I don’t hate her, I  _ loathe  _ her, and once I find a way to get rid of her, you can be sure I will gladly do so.”

David leaned away from the irate thief, surprised at her vehemence. But then, he understood. The White Queen thought she had killed Snow White, of course she was harsh in her pursuit of her presumed murderer. “Queen Regina thinks you killed her stepdaughter. Once she sees you are innocent, she will leave you alone, and you’ll be able to build your life again.”

A harsh laugh met his statement. Far from appeasing the woman, it seemed to incense her further. “You don’t get it, do you, Charming?” Sticking her face between the bars again, she told him in a harsh whisper, “I did not kill Snow White,  _ I am Snow White. _ ”

David reeled back, struck dumb by the woman’s words. She had said them with such conviction that he felt they couldn’t be anything but true. Still, a voice inside his head, the voice who had been to the princess’ funeral, a closed coffin affair, told him this could not be true.

“You’re lying,” he said, rallying. “I went to Princess Snow’s funeral. The poor girl is dead.”

“What you saw was a closed coffin. Anyone,  _ anything  _ could have been inside. And it sure wasn’t me.”

“I can’t believe it,” David said, the enormity of what she was saying dawning on him. “Why would Queen Regina… she was heartbroken at your - at Snow’s funeral.”

“Just because you don’t believe that doesn’t make it any less true,” the thief said, “Regina wanted power, and I was standing in her way. Just like my father was.”

“Are you insinuating Regina killed King Leopold? This is preposterous! Everyone knows a rogue genie murdered him before disappearing!” David said, growing more and more agitated. To think he had almost believed her. Perhaps she had managed to fool Emma the day before, too. Taking a decision, he straightened and told the thief in a cold voice, “You’re a liar, I can’t trust you to say the truth. No deal between us. Goodbye,” he concluded, turning on his heels and walking away.

“When you came to my father’s funeral, you called me a wood sprite.”

David froze. He had not seen Princess Snow often, but the most memorable encounter they’d had had been the day before the funeral. He had gone in the woods around the castle for a walk, and had seen a small girl sitting in a tree. He had tried to coax her down, calling her indeed a little wood sprite. They had talked, David happy to just be a boy and not a prince, for once. It had only been in the evening, at dinner, that he had realized his little wood sprite had been Princess Snow.

They had promised to keep this encounter between the two of them. No one knew. Except Snow White.

The prince turned slowly, grabbing a torch when he passed it. Slowly, he approached the thief’s cell. To her credit, she stayed where she was, looking him in the eyes. David studied her face, trying to compare it to one he had seen almost ten years earlier, but which he hadn’t forgotten. While the face was obviously more womanly, the baby fat having melted from her cheeks, there was no mistaking the chin, nor the big green eyes.

“Snow…” he breathed incredulously, making the princess smile in relief.

The prince once again stepped back, needing a moment to gather his wits. If Snow was alive, then this meant the White Queen had lied. If the White Queen had lied about Snow’s death, it either meant she had been manipulated, or that she was behind the assassination attempt. Considering Snow’s reaction each time he mentioned Regina, it was probably the latter. Gods, if only Emma were here, she could clear this situation in a jiffy.

With this thought, the reality of his sister’s situation came back to him. While he had been talking with the princess, Emma had been getting farther and farther away. While the thief’s identity was a momentous revelation, he had bigger problems at this moment.

“I need to know who took Emma,” he told her again urgently. “I will free you, but I really need your help.”

Snow looked at him consideringly, tapping on the bars in thought. “The pirate who escaped said the ship was the  _ Black Roger _ . I know,” she said before he could interrupt her, “the  _ Black Roger _ is a legend. But he assured me it was real, and that it was in the bay. He also said they’d probably go hide themselves on Black Rock.”

“The  _ Black Roger _ , Black Rock? What’s the name of its captain, Black Joe?” David said sarcastically, “everyone knows those are children’s tales. Neither the  _ Black Roger  _ nor Black Rock exist.”

“And until five minutes ago,  _ everyone  _ knew Snow White had been murdered. Black Rock exists, except it has not always been known by that name. I was actually trying to get there yesterday.”

“And how were you planning to take a ship to a mythical place that no one has found in centuries?”

“I’ve got my ways,” Snow said simply.

“I’m going to need more info than that.”

“I was planning to go to Tortuga, where I have some friends waiting for me. From there, we’d have gone to Black Rock, where there is an item that can help me vanquish Regina.”

“How?”

“Not telling you,” Snow said. 

David rolled his eyes, turning to go. “I’ll tell the guards to let you out at dawn.”

“Wait! Thanks to you, Regina probably already knows I’m here. I need to leave as quickly as possible. We have a common goal: going to Black Rock. I get what I’m looking for, you get your sister, everyone’s happy.”

Still turning his back on the princess, David smiled.  _ Gotcha _ . Sobering up, he turned towards her, “What’s your deal?”

“I provide the means to get to Black Rock, you provide the ship. Should be easy for a prince, no?”

David winced. Not really.  _ Although…  _

“How will we get to Black Rock? The legend says it cannot be found except by those who already know where it is.”

The princess sighed, annoyed at his perseverance. “The compass you found in my satchel. It’s not broken, it’s enchanted. It will take us to Black Rock. Now, do we have a deal?”

Looking Snow in the eye, David held his hand out between the bars, waiting for her to shake it, “We have a deal.”

Snow shook his hand, before crossing her arms. “Well, now that that’s settled, I hope you have a set of keys, because the beast you gave them to is a scroungy mutt.”

David snorted. “Who, Wilby?” Whistling, he listened as claws scrambled for purchase on the stone floor, before a ball of fur propelled itself into the prince’s legs, barking joyfully. “Good boy,” he said affectionately, scratching the dog behind his ears before taking the ring of keys attached to its collar under the disbelieving glare of the princess. Holding them up, he smirked, “Ready to go?”

––-

As David secured the mainsail on the  _ Pride of Amphitrite _ , Snow glared at him, her arms crossed, dripping. They had taken advantage of the dim light provided by the pre-dawn to swim towards the man o’ war, and they were now on its deck, ostensibly prepping it for departure. 

“You sure about this? Because this has to be the most hare-brained plan I’ve heard in a while – and I’ve heard some stupid ones, believe me.”

“Yes, I am. Now, go and turn the helm two notches starboard,” David told her, fiddling with the rigging. When he didn’t hear the princess’ steps going towards the stern, he turned around. She was still glaring at him, managing to look both aggravated and embarrassed. They locked eyes, until the prince understood and in a softer tone, told her “Turn the helm to the right until two handles have passed before you.”

Nodding, the princess went to do as he said without speaking a word. As David was releasing another sail, he heard Snow calling out to him, “They’re coming!”

David turned towards port, where he could see the  _ Ruth’s Dream _ and its crew coming towards them. Turning away in case someone was watching him with a spyglass, he allowed himself to smile triumphantly. 

There was no way he and Snow could sail the bulky man o’ war on their own, especially since Snow had absolutely no nautical knowledge. The  _ Ruth’s Dream _ , however, was a smaller brig and could be sailed for a short time by two people. It also had the advantage of being the fastest ship on the seven seas. The problem, however, was that the  _ Dream _ was currently crewed by more than a dozen sailors, among which Cassidy and his lieutenant. 

David and Snow stood no chance of actually seizing it, which is why they had opted for this little subterfuge, despite the princess’ reluctance. They would lure the sailors on the  _ Pride _ , trap them below deck, and leave with the fully stocked  _ Dream _ . David had served with Cassidy, and knew how he would react. He just hoped he wasn’t wrong.

Once the brig was in shooting distance, Snow went to hide below deck, hoping to draw most of the sailors after her. She would then sneak onto the  _ Dream _ , waiting for David’s signal.

The prince ignored the cries from the brig, and continued to prepare to set sail, fiddling with the rudder. The smaller ship came alongside the bigger one, and grappling hooks appeared over the railing as David took hold of the helm. As he had predicted, around fourteen men came aboard. A dozen went directly below deck, looking for the fugitive. Only two remained on deck, slowly approaching the prince.

“Your highness, you have to stop this madness now,” said Cassidy, both his hands up in an appeasing gesture.

“I will not stand back while my sister is in danger,” David growled fiercely, narrowing his eyes.

“You are being irrational, Your Highness! The king is right, we cannot risk you in this endeavour. They already managed to surprise us on our own turf. Imagine what they’ll be able to do on their own,” the commodore beseeched, still advancing slowly, now at the bottom of the steps.

“What kind of brother would I be, abandoning my sister when she needs me? What kind of King would abandon his own family? If you had a sister, or brother, woudn’t you do the same?”

“I don’t know, I have neither. But if I did, and I were in your position, I would not forget that a whole kingdom is counting on me.”

“My sister is counting on me right now. The kingdom isn’t.”

“How can you say – “

But Cassidy was interrupted as David saw movement out of the corner of his eye. While they had been talking, Fessome, Cassidy’s lieutenant, had been sneaking on the other side of the stern to try to catch the prince unaware. Unfortunately for him, the rising sun had shone off his polished buttons, alerting David to his presence.

Quickly taking a couple of steps backwards, so that the two commanding officers were in his line of sight, David whipped a pistol from behind his back and aimed it at Cassidy’s head. “Don’t move, either of you,” he said in a cold voice.

For several tense seconds, no one moved on deck, each man seizing the other two. The wind ruffled Cassidy’s curls and made the sails gently flap above them.

“David, lower your weapon,” said the commodore, as his lieutenant watched in horror.

“Then stand down,” the prince said, pleading with his eyes, while his hand never faltered.

“I can’t do that,” Cassidy said. Turning towards his lieutenant, the commodore said, “Ross, please go see where the men are.”

“Sir…”

“Now, Lieutenant Fessome.”

“Yes, sir,” said the man, looking between his prince and his commanding officer. Then, bowing his head, he left, heading below deck.

Once he was gone, Cassidy turned again towards the prince, who was still aiming his weapon at him. Once again raising his hands, he climbed the first step, but stopped when the prince cocked the pistol.

“Don’t move,” David repeated.

Dropping his hands in frustration, Cassidy rolled his eyes, tilting his head in aggravation.

“And what exactly do you plan to do, hm? You have no idea where your sister is, or who took her. You don’t even have a crew, David. You were planning to sail the  _ Pride  _ on your own, which is impossible.”

“Not on my own, I know where I’m going, and not the  _ Pride _ , Emrick.”

“What do you mean you know where you’re go – not the  _ Pride _ ?” the commodore asked, puzzled.

David grinned at his friend, aiming suddenly above his head and shooting. The bullet severed a rope, which released a sail, forcing Cassidy to duck, but not before being hit by a piece of the rigging.

At the same time, all the grappling hooks started coming loose as Snow methodically cut the ropes on the  _ Ruth’s Dream _ . David grabbed a rope and swung down onto the brig’s deck, running for the helm while Snow finished pulling the anchor up. 

As the  _ Dream  _ started gaining speed, the prince and princess looked behind them, seeing Lieutenant Fessome burst from below deck just in time to join Cassidy at the railing. The last words they heard from the bigger ship were the commodore’s “This is madness!” before the wind took all sounds away.

While David laughed freely, Snow couldn’t help worrying.

“Aren’t you afraid they might start shooting at us?”

“And risk killing the heir to the throne right in front of his castle? Not a chance.”

“I can’t believe this worked,” the princess said, coming to stand beside him.

“I told you, I knew it would,” David told her, smiling dazzlingly as they sailed into the open sea.

“You manage to have some good ideas, for a Prince Charming,” Snow teased him, smiling and bumping his shoulder.

“I do have a name, you know,” David told her, leaning towards her.

“I know, but Charming suits you,” the princess answered, swaying in his space.

Before David could answer, the doors of the captain’s cabin opened, and they heard a small voice calling out “David? Is that you?” as a small head appeared on the stairs leading to the stern.

“Henry?!” David exclaimed, as Snow froze at the sight of the child. “What are you doing here?”

“Emrick took me with him so I could get used to the ship, and then told me to hide in his cabin when they came to board you. What’s going on? Are we going to save Emma?”

“I – you – You can’t come with us, it’s way too dangerous!” David cried, grabbing his hair in frustration.

“Well, it’s not like we can take him back,” Snow said, looking behind her at Misthaven Bay getting smaller and smaller in the distance.

The prince looked from the woman to the boy, who was looking at him hopefully before he groaned, bumping his head against the helm.

“Emma is going to  _ kill  _ me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, David, she is. Unless Cassidy or Granny gets their hands on you first.
> 
> Next week, Emma dines with Hook, and realizes she is in a far worse situation than she thought.
> 
> Come say hi on my[ Tumblr ](http://snidgetsafan.tumblr.com) if you want!


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank my betas, Kit and Devon, enough for their help <3
> 
> Also a little warning: with school beginning again, I will not update on Wednesdays anymore, but on Sundays.

Emma looked out the porthole at the sun setting. McCullough had taken her to a cabin at the stern of the ship where she had been locked up since. She had exhausted herself screaming and hitting the door, begging to be freed, to leave, but to no avail. She had fallen into a fitful sleep soon after, just as dawn had shone bright and pink between the horizon and the clouds, bathed in warm and deep hues of pinks and reds.

Waking up hours later, Emma's throat was parched and her stomach rumbling with hunger. Trying to distract herself from both sensations, she started exploring the cabin, discovering almost immediately that a jug of water had been left out for her. She eagerly slaked her thirst before resuming her inspection of her prison.She could see that while it was very spartan, it was also very clean, which was something, she guessed. The cabin was quite small,  occupied only by a small bunk and an empty desk bolted to the floor. The drawers under the bed were empty except for an old ribbon that had been forgotten at the bottom, which Emma had used to tie her hair back.

The only personal effects in the room were a handful of books left on the ledge under the window. They were mostly old treatises, with the exception of one book of poetry, the initials K.J. written inside on the cover page in flowing letters. 

Under the light of day, Emma had thought about the previous night’s events. She had been foolish to think that she was on the mythical Black Roger. After all, that’s all it was – a myth. It only existed in books and the fanciful minds of superstitious sailors, nowhere else. As she tried to convince herself, Emma ignored the little voice in her mind that added  _ And in the minds of gullible princesses, too _ . 

The night before, she had been scared, panicked and completely exhausted by everything that had happened to her that day. The pirates had clearly devised quite the elaborate con with their black ship and little tricks. They used mermaid magic and they probably had another kind of trick for the moving rowboat. As for the captain’s hook… Probably a prop, like an actor, Emma thought uneasily. Or, if he had really lost his hand, he probably had seen it as an opportunity to be more believable in his role. 

The princess had thought about the blue-eyed captain more than she liked. She had tried to understand how he could have tricked her into not taking her back to shore. After a while, she’d had to admit it had been her fault; she had been so nervous that she had forgotten that the most important thing in any pirate negotiation was ensuring her own safe return first. Emma had read countless accounts of parleys and negotiations and she knew,  _ knew _ that this was the first thing she should have done. But she had been so destabilized when she had thought herself on a ghost ship, face-to-face with a ghost captain, that all those tales had flown out of her mind.

But what was Hook’s interest in keeping her aboard? For him, she was no one important, a simple maid in the castle. He couldn’t be hoping to ask for ransom, could he? So what was he going to do with her? 

While several scenarios flitted through her mind, she couldn’t help but remember the importance the four pirates had placed on the medallion. A single coin, and not a large one at that, when they could have access to any kind of riches. Like her kingdom’s, for instance. Maybe it was enchanted? They seemed big on enchanted items, these pirates. It had been uncanny how the coin had kept slipping out of her gown, or how her life had taken a nosedive since she had taken it out of its compartment. 

Now that she could take some time to think about it, their reaction to her fake name had also been quite peculiar. As soon as she had said “Swan”, the four pirates had stilled, as if they recognized it. But it was an invented name, one she had given Henry more than a decade ago. They couldn’t possibly know it. Right?

Before Emma could dwell on it longer, she heard footsteps stop on the other side of her door. She barely had time to scramble up, her legs getting tangled in her nightgown, before the door was unlocked and opened. A small stocky pirate with a red woollen hat on his head stepped into the room with Gill behind him, who leant on the door jamb, nonchalantly picking his nails with a knife. Emma looked at him unimpressed.  _ Really? _ she thought,  _ Could he be any more stereotypical? _

The smaller pirate cleared his throat, bringing Emma’s attention back to him.

“Good evening, Miss,” he said, “the captain is requesting your presence at dinner tonight.”

“Request–  _ what? _ ” Emma sputtered, completely taken by surprise. Of all the things she had expected, this was definitely not on the list.

“To dinner, Miss,” the pirate said helpfully. “He has provided a dress for you to wear, too,” he finished, holding the garment up.

Barely looking down, Emma told him loftily, “You can tell your captain that – what was it? Oh yes, ‘I’m disinclined to acquiesce to his request.’”

“You misunderstand, lovely,” Gill piped up, straightening, “it’s not a request, it’s an order. Smee was just being polite.”

Emma turned to glare at him, before her eyes widened in shock. Gone were the burn marks on his face; in their place she could only see pristine, unmarred skin.  _ It’s impossible _ , she thought. She had showered him in burning embers not a day before, had seen the marks on his face; how could he be healed so quickly?  _ What, did they also have enchanted salve? What next, enchanted chamber pots?  _ Emma thought a little hysterically.

Gill had noticed her staring, and was now grinning. “If you’re looking for a little souvenir of our meeting yesterday, then you’re gonna keep looking for a long, long time, girlie. Nothing to see now but my striking mug.”

Giving him a sickly sweet smile, Emma told him, “Shame, you looked better with the burn marks. Gave a little color to your cheeks, distracted from your nose, you know.”

Losing his grin, Gill turned towards Smee, who had taken advantage of Emma and his crewmate’s squabble to put the dress on the bed, and was now waiting patiently for them to finish. Once the taller pirate saw his crewmate was finished, he turned back towards the princess and told her, “Put on the dress, and be ready for dinner in ten minutes.”

Emma crossed her arms, sneering. “And if I’m not?”

“The captain said that it’s either the dress… or nothing,” said Smee, not looking at her and retreating on the other side of the door.

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard the man, lovely. The dress, or naked. If you decide on naked, please know I will take  _ particular _ pleasure in making you take the scenic route to the Captain’s quarters.”

Looking at him, Emma realized he was not lying. He would, the… the – the bastard! Unable to bear seeing his leering face any longer, the princess did the only thing she could think of, and slammed the door in his face.

~~~~ 

The captain’s cabin was dark, lit by a dozen dripping candles as night grew deeper outside. Emma looked around her as she walked into the seemingly empty room at Smee’s wordless request, the bottom of her dress trailing on the floor. It was not a cut she was used to, but at least there was no corset. It was surprisingly comfortable. Her gaze soon stopped on the table, laden with food and drinks which made her stomach rumble, protesting its forced fast.

A quiet click made her turn her head away from the feast. Smee had closed the door, leaving her alone in the cabin.

Or so she thought.

“You look stunning, Swan,” the shadows said, making the princess whirl around, looking for the source of the voice, the skirts of her borrowed dress whipping around her legs.

From the far end of the room, a shape detached itself from the shadows, slowly stepping forward until it walked into the circle of light created by the candles. Hook had taken off his coat, leaving him in a billowy black shirt and red embroidered vest. His one hand tucked into his belt, the captain advanced towards her as Emma watched him warily. 

“It’s not like I had a choice now, did I?” the princess told him at last. “You didn’t think I’d give you the pleasure of coming in naked?”

“A man can hope,” Hook told her, his eyes lazily running over her frame before he led her to the table. “Although you cut quite the figure in this dress, love, so I don’t feel like I’m losing out.”

“Not your love,” Emma answered, glaring at him as she sat down. The man was absolutely  _ infuriating _ . The princess had been used all her life to a certain level of propriety and respect, and the captain’s crass remarks were odious to her. Even as she told herself this, Emma ignored the small thrill she had felt at the pirate’s compliment.  _ I don’t need and don’t  _ want  _ Hook’s approval _ , she thought firmly.

The pirate didn’t answer but merely watched her, smiling amusedly before sitting down at the head of the table. Emma’s attention was once again brought to the meal laid on its surface. Meats, vegetables, cheese and bread, what looked like a carafe of wine in front of her… She felt her mouth water, smelling the appetizing aromas coming from the food.  _ A feast fit for a king _ , she thought.  _ And I would know _ . 

Despite the temptation to dig in, Emma waited. She highly doubted she had been summoned here out of courtesy. What did Hook – or whatever his real name was – want with her? She had to be careful. Her thoughtlessness last night had landed her in this situation; Emma had to make sure she didn’t make it any worse by being more careless. She would make sure to listen carefully to what Hook said to detect any hint of deceit. 

A hand passed in front of her, grabbing the handle of the carafe and lifting it.

“Wine?” Hook asked, holding the pitcher over her goblet.

“I– yes, thank you,” the princess replied automatically, watching as he poured her a glass before filling his own goblet.

“Veal?” the captain then asked, spearing a slice of meat from the serving plate next to him, waiting for Emma’s answer with a raised eyebrow. At her nod, he put the slice in her plate, before indicating with a gesture that she should help herself to the other dishes. Coolly, Emma took some bread and vegetables, putting her napkin on her knees before tucking in slowly, despite the temptation to just stuff herself.

After only a few bites, her attention was once again brought to the man at the head of the table as he chuckled. Looking at him, Emma saw that he was leant back in his chair, slowly swirling his goblet in his hand.

“Don’t stand on ceremony, Swan. You must be quite famished after a whole day without eating. Don’t be afraid to really get into it, there’s no one to impress.”

“Why are you being a gentleman all of a sudden?” Emma asked suspiciously. “Why the concern?”

“I just told you. You haven’t eaten in a day, I don’t want you to starve,” the captain told her, her sixth sense telling her he wasn’t lying. “And I’ll have you know, I’m always a gentleman, Swan.”

The princess let out an unladylike snort at that. 

“Yeah, right,” Emma muttered into her goblet as she took a sip of wine.

Hook clearly had heard her, if his raised eyebrows were any indication. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a pirate, and I’ve yet to meet a pirate that’s a gentleman,” the princess answered, thinking of the trials she had taken part in, and the list of crimes of some of the accused. Her childish romantic notions about pirates had seemed pretty silly when confronted with the violent reality of what being a pirate really was.

“Met a lot of pirates, have you?”

“I-- “ Emma stopped. She couldn’t tell him she had participated in dozens of pirate trials over the last years, listening for lies from the accused, witnesses and victims. Emma the princess had; Emma the maid had not. Plus, it wouldn’t be very smart to tell a pirate that her father had sentenced dozens of his brethren. “The royal family have convicted a lot of pirates, and I watched some of the trials.”

“Ah, but those trials were about their deeds, not their manners. You can’t judge a book by its cover, especially when it’s being presented in the most unfavorable way possible,” the captain told her. “You also clearly have not met a pirate, since meeting him would involve having a conversation. So your point is moot.”

Glaring at Hook wordlessly, Emma turned once more towards her plate. She couldn’t contradict him without revealing too much about herself, and this was a slippery slope. If he realized she was not just a simple maid, she would be in even more trouble than she was in now.

Just to spite the captain, Emma resumed eating primly, but her hunger soon got the better of her. Her bites grew larger and faster until the princess found herself scarfing down her meal and washing it down with mouthfuls of wine. Leaning over to grab another piece of bread, she saw that Hook was not eating, nursing his goblet of wine and watching her intently. One could almost say… longingly. Emma froze, her mouth still full of meat.

“Why aren’t you eating?” she asked, swallowing past the lump that had formed in her throat.

“I’m not hungry,” Hook told her glibly, not moving from his relaxed position.

_ Lie, huge lie _ , her brain told her. The food she had inhaled with pleasure merely a few seconds ago now sat like lead in her stomach.

“You’re lying. Oh gods, is the food poisoned?” Emma asked, growing alarmed and dropping her fork. Had there been something in the food? In the wine?

Nothing lethal, surely; there was no reason he’d resort to killing her with poison when there were so many faster ways he could do away with her on his ship. So what could it be? Something to knock her out? A truth serum? Or something more sinister, the princess thought, seeing the bed from the corner of her eye, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight.

“Stop your speculations, the food hasn’t been tampered with,” the pirate sighed in exasperation, as if he could read her thoughts. Emma sighed in relief, sensing the truth in his words. “Why don’t you try something, darling. It’s called trust.”

“The last time I put a modicum of trust in you, I found myself sailing away from my home against my will,” Emma snapped. “Now, if the food’s not poisoned, why aren’t you eating anything?”

“I told you, just not hungry,” Hook repeated.

“And I told you, you’re lying,” the princess pushed.

“Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I know when people lie to me,” Emma told him simply, before asking again, “Why aren’t you eating?”

Hook looked at her consideringly in silence for a few seconds, before licking his lips and leaning forwards in his chair. “I can’t,” he told her, putting his goblet on the table.

Emma frowned. While it didn’t sound like a lie, it also did not sound like the truth either. “What do you mean, you can’t? That makes no sense.”

Instead of answering her, Hook put his hand inside his vest, pulling out her medallion, dangling the chain from his finger. “What do you know about this?” he asked, the pendant glinting at it swayed slowly.

“It’s just a medallion,” Emma said, shrugging, puzzled at his change of subject. What did her necklace have to do with him not eating?

“No, Swan, this is not ‘just a medallion.’ It’s not even a medallion at all. This here is one of the coins of the treasure of the Muadhi. 882 coins found inside a stone chest carved with an inscription in ancient Agrabhian: ‘Any mortal who removes any coin from this chest will be damned for all eternity,’” the captain recited, watching Emma. He continued, chuckling darkly. “Of course, none of us knew that when we found the chest.”

Emma looked at him, rattled. She couldn’t detect any lie in what he was saying. Had she really been wearing a cursed object around her neck? “But what has this got to do with the fact you won’t eat?” she asked, trying not to get distracted by his tale.

“Everything, Swan,” Hook told her, looking at the coin pensively. “We took the chest, and we spent almost every last coin before we discovered anything amiss. After a while, we realized that we ate, but we were still hungry. We drank, but we were still thirsty. We could not feel the breeze on our skin, nor the warmth of the sun on our faces. The finest food tasted like ash in our mouths. All the pleasures of life were being taken from us, leaving us to live like shadows of ourselves. For three hundred years now we have roamed the seas, searching for a way to free ourselves from the curse.”

Emma shifted in her chair, growing agitated as the pirate talked. He was not lying. Which did not mean it was the truth, just that Hook believed what he was saying. ‘You realize this is madness, right? The  _ Black Roger _ and its crew are a legend, a ghost story to spook children.” She knew there was generally an element of truth to every story, but this was absurd. 

Perhaps there was  _ a _ Black Roger? Perhaps the mantle of “Captain Hook” was passed from pirate to pirate? That would explain the different descriptions of the captain she had found in her books; they were simply describing a different man each time. Because there was no way the man in front of her could be defined as monstrous. An irritating ass he may be, but he was a handsome one, Emma admitted to herself.

“You seem pretty intent on stating the  _ Black Roger _ and its crew are not real, while sitting in its cabins and talking to its captain,” Hook argued, his hand gesturing first to the room around them, then to himself. He then continued, his eyebrows rising in aggravation, “May I also remind you, darling, that  _ you  _ were the one to identify me yesterday.” 

Emma leaned forward, intent on winning this argument, because she had more than enough of his smug attitude. “Yesterday I was tired, upset and cold. My home had just been attacked by pirates, and I had just been kidnapped and brought onto a pirate ship. I think that excuses my passing gullibility!”

“I have never met a more stubborn lass in my life,” Hook sighed, getting up and opening a chest, taking a dark glass bottle out. Emma took advantage of his turned back to slip her knife into the folds of her skirts, concealing its absence by putting her napkin over where it had been. 

Once the captain had sat down again, she asked him the question that had plagued her since the night before as he uncorked the bottle with his teeth, spitting the cap onto the floor. “What I don’t understand is why you kidnapped me. You got your coin, what use am I to you?”

“Well, you see, lass, we  _ have  _ found a way to end the curse. In order to be freed, all the coins must be returned in the chest. We returned almost all of them. This,” he said, gesturing towards the pendant with the bottle, “is the last one. Now, all we need to do is return it to the chest and finish the ritual. That’s where you come in.”

Emma’s blood froze. “The ritual? What ritual?”

Hook smiled, his eyes rising to meet hers before he took a sip from his bottle. “Well, what every self-respecting curse requires: blood, of course. So you see, Swan, you’re quite essential to our plan.”

A blood sacrifice.  _ They were going to sacrifice her _ . She was going to die because a delusional pirate was convinced he was three hundred years old and cursed.  _ What had she gotten herself into?  _

Her heart rate kicked up as terror took hold of her. Emma stood up abruptly, her chair clattering to the floor.  _ She had to get out of there _ . Pulling her knife from her skirts, she ran for the door, hoping that the captain’s surprise would allow her precious seconds to escape. No such luck, as the princess tugged on the door handle only to find it locked tight. She suddenly remembered the click she had heard earlier, and realized this must have been Smee locking the door after her.

Seeing she would not escape this way, Emma whirled around, intent on going up the ladder that probably led to the deck, even though she was not sure. She didn’t care.  _ Anywhere but here _ .

Emma’s plans were soon foiled when she saw that Hook had risen and was advancing, stepping between her and the ladder, cutting her exit route off. The pirate stopped a few feet from her when he saw the knife Emma had shakingly raised, pointing it in his direction. Slowly bringing his hand and hook up, the captain tried to placate her. “Easy, Swan. I fear there may have been a misunderstanding.”

“Don’t come nearer!” Emma cried, her heart beating erratically in her chest, her breaths coming out short. “There’s no misunderstanding, you’re completely off your rocker! I won’t let you sacrifice me because you think this will break some bogus curse!”

“Sacrifice? You’re being rather overdramatic,” Hook said, rolling his eyes and lowering his arms a fraction. “Now, be a love and–” 

“I am not your love!” the princess screamed, her grip on the knife so tight her knuckles were white. She had to get out of there.  _ Now _ . In desperation, she tried to run towards the ladder, but the pirate moved faster than her, catching her by the waist. Her arm still raised, the knife still in her hand, she turned towards him and– 

_ Squelch _ .

Emma stared in horror at the knife’s handle, because the blade was sunk deep into Hook’s chest. Her mouth hung open on a silent scream.  _ She hadn’t meant to _ . With a reflexive jerk, she yanked the knife away, looking at the scarlet liquid covering it before averting her eyes, feeling sick. She wanted to drop it, get as far away from it as possible, but she couldn’t pry her fingers apart. She had stabbed Hook through the chest, maybe even through the heart. He was going to die, he– 

He was still standing, his arm still steady around her waist.

_ This was not normal _ . Where her heart had beat frantically against her ribs a handful of seconds before, it now felt like it had risen up to her throat and was trying to get out. Emma raised her eyes slowly, dreading what she was going to see. 

First, her eyes fell on his chest. Except for the rip in his vest over his heart, there was no trace that he had just been stabbed, not a single drop of blood soaking the fabric. An incredulous glance down at the knife in her hand revealed that she had not imagined the blood on the blade.  _ Something was very, very wrong. _

Blinking in puzzlement, Emma looked up into the captain’s face, and froze again. For a second, the shocked princess could not understand what she was seeing. Where she had expected an expression of pain, or of anger, Hook merely looked bored, not even looking down at the gaping wound in his chest.  _ Which she had put there _ . His eyebrows raised, he instead sighed, as if he were talking about a minor inconvenience. “I liked that vest, you know.”

His words caused Emma to regain control of her limbs as her brain cried to put as much space as possible between her and the pirate before her. She frantically tried to break free from his grasp.  _ He should be dead he should be dead he should be dead why isn’t he dead _ ran through her mind on repeat. 

When she couldn’t manage to dislodge his grasp, his arm only tightening around her, she put to use the hand-to-hand techniques David had taught her a few years ago, when she had started attracting boys’ gazes. She jerked her knee up, hitting the pirate in the crotch as hard as she could. Hook doubled down in pain, his hand going to cradle his injured manhood as he stumbled back a step. Emma took advantage of his distraction and shoved him hard in the shoulders, sending him careening into the table, several dishes clattering to the floor, the brown bottle rolling around. 

Remembering what her brother had told her – “Always make sure they can’t follow before you turn your back on them” – Emma looked around her for a way to delay the captain, finding nothing. Her eyes flashed to the struggling man as she heard a thump. Hook had sunk his hook into the tabletop to give himself enough leverage to get up from his sprawl. He was slowly straightening, his one hand splayed on an empty part of the table, breathing heavily. 

This gave the princess an idea. Before he could regain his wits, she sprang towards him, and, with the strength of the truly terrified, she drove the knife through his right hand, pinning him to the table. She leant all her weight on it to make sure the blade sunk deep into the wood beneath it and  _ stayed  _ there, before quickly stepping back out of his hook’s reach.

The pirate started swearing profusely amid his groans of pain, trying to move the knife to no avail, his hook offering him no grip on the hilt.  _ With all this noise, he was going to attract attention. _ Spying the brown bottle still rolling on the table, the princess caught it by the neck, turning it over and accidentally splashing herself with what smelled like strong alcohol inside. Bracing herself, she looked at Hook, meeting his pained and angry gaze. Taking a deep breath, she quickly breathed a “sorry” before swinging the bottle down on the side of his face. The blue-eyed pirate dropped down like a stone, unconscious. 

Emma didn’t stay to see if Hook was truly down. She turned and ran towards the ladder, wanting, no,  _ needing  _ to leave the room and its apparently immortal occupant.

Everything he’d told her that night, and everything she had read as a child ran through her mind as she darted up the ladder, sighing shakily in relief when she found the trap door at the top unlocked. She burst through the doors, feeling the cool night air kiss her face as she climbed the last rungs, stepping above deck before freezing, a horrified scream lodged in her throat.

Thanks to the full moon shining in the cloudless sky, she had a clear view of the whole deck and its occupants, almost as if it were day. The scene was at first glance ordinary; sailors attending to their tasks, coiling rope, swabbing the deck, a pirate even swinging from the rigging. Except… they were not men.

Every single one of the pirates was a moving, living skeleton. She could see from where she was standing near the bow of the ship that where their skin and flesh should have been, only bone and papery dry skin remained, clumps of hair sticking haphazardly to their skulls, hanging limply… lifelessly. 

Emma felt all her strength leave her as a whimper escaped her lips. Without her realizing it, her fingers opened on their own, and the bottle she was still holding fell to the floor, shattering loudly on the wooden planks.

Activity slowed, then stopped as every pirate turned towards her, wanting to know what had caused the noise. Their faces were the worst, even more horrifying than their skeletal frames – nearly identical to the grinning skull stamped on her medallion. The only difference was that their eyes were intact, appearing enormous in their desiccated sockets. 

And they were all focused on her.

Another whimper escaped the princess as she realized that the curse was real. The stories were real. She was on the Black Roger, and she was staring at its crew of damned souls.

And if the swearing and heavy steps on the ladder behind her were to be believed, then Captain Hook, the one so monstrous Hell had spat him back out, was coming up the ladder behind her. Her knocking him out and pinning his only hand to the table had only given her a one-minute head start. And he sounded  _ furious _ . 

Taking a shaky breath, Emma tore her eyes from the pirate crew, turned around and looked down. The captain was coming up, glaring daggers at her as he emerged from the darkness of the cabin below. He was grabbing the railing with his injured hand, the knife nowhere to be seen, and his temple was cut where she had hit him, although she noticed that only a few droplets of blood had dripped on his face. Emma took an involuntary step back at the fury on his face, then another.

The pirate slowly emerged from below deck, but he didn’t look like the man she had seen just a second ago. What came out of the trapdoor was  _ horrifying _ . Black, dried strips of skin clung to whitened bone, his previously perfectly fitted clothes hanging limply over his frame and looking tattered in the moonlight. His expressive face, which had looked furious when he had been climbing up, was now sallow, his expressive lips pulled tight over his teeth. Only the blue eyes remained, seeming to glow in the moonlight as they focused on her.

Once he was on deck, he spread his arms, his gesture encompassing both the ship and its crew. Emma saw with horror that his hook was not a prop, but a real replacement for his missing hand. It seemed to extend directly from his arm, the leather brace that had seemed to hold it in the cabin now too big and hanging loosely from the bones of his forearm. 

“So, love, are we still a myth to you, a mere legend? Or are you finally beginning to see sense?” Seeing Emma was too terrified to speak, her lips moving without a single sound being released, Hook leant towards her, anger coloring his voice, “Because let me tell you one thing, Swan. You better start believing in ‘ghost stories.’ Because now– you’re in one.” 

And then, taking hold of her shoulders with his hand and hook, he forcibly turned her towards the rest of the ship and its crew, whispering in her ear as she struggled feebly, closing her eyes. “Do we live up to the tales you read as a child, Swan? Look how the moonlight reveals our true selves.” Then, when he noticed she had screwed her eyes shut, he gave Emma a shake and told her “ _ Look _ .”

Wordlessly, her head spinning and her breath short, Emma opened her eyes  and looked around her at the creatures that had surrounded them. They all stood motionless except for one, which was slowly stepping closer. When he spoke, she recognized his gravelly voice instantly.

“So, lovely, is my nose still too distracting for you?” Gill asked, taunting her with her earlier words. Then, putting his hands on his cheeks with a clinking sound, he continued, “Would you like a closer look?”  

At that, Gill wrenched his head from his neck with a sickening crack and thrust it towards her face, stopping the movement a mere foot from her own nose. Emma tried to step back, but was stopped by Hook’s strong grip on her shoulders. She could see that while his head was not connected to the rest of his body, his eyes still watched her, a malevolent grin showing his yellowed teeth.

_ This was too much.  _

Emma’s vision blackened as Gill spoke. “Looks like you’re the one who needs a little color in her cheeks now.” 

The laughter of the pirate crew was the last thing Emma heard before the events of the night became too much for her and she fainted.

–– 

A rocking motion woke Emma up from her daze, and she clung to whatever was holding her when she felt that she was not touching the ground. She was cold, but held snug in warm arms, surrounded by the smell of salt and leather. Snapping her eyes open, the first thing she saw were blue, blue eyes watching her warily as Hook deposited her carefully on a bed before draping a blanket over her shivering form.

While he now looked as human as when she had first met him, she could not help but remember what the captain had looked like above deck and she shuddered. She flinched when he brought his hand towards her, making him stop for a second before he slowly, very slowly removed the lock of hair which had fallen over her cheek, putting it back behind her ear.

“I wish to apologize, Swan. I should not have acted so on deck, should not have pushed you the way I did,” he told her softly, looking slightly above her left ear, looking sheepish. “Sleep now, you are safe; no one will come to bother you.”

Exhaustion, both mental and physical, pulled at Emma’s consciousness, making her eyelids heavy. Before she fell asleep, she was pretty sure she felt Hook pull the blankets higher, making sure all her limbs were covered.

The princess’ sleep that night was fitful, interspersed with flashes of bony hands and grinning skulls rolling on the floor. But when she woke up the next day, what she remembered most from her dreams were a pair of blue eyes watching over her and providing her with a measure of solace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this could have gone better.
> 
> See you for next chapter on the 31st!


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, has it been a long time! I've been working and studying at uni since September, and I've had neither the time nor the energy to write a new chapter, although I've thought about the fic often. So often, that I decided to join the March Madness to get a deadline to finish!  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

Emma sat curled up against the headboard on her bunk, trying to stay calm and stave off the panic that she could feel rising. She had woken up as the first rays of dawn had bathed her room in red light, only to find a stranger seated at the foot of her bed, startling her into instant alertness.

Dr. Almasi, as he had introduced himself, had checked her for any injury before declaring her in perfect health. Despite her unease, his movements had been efficient and to the point, if a little brusque, as he had examined her in silence. Hirudinas, the court doctor, had always taken care to treat her carefully and ceremoniously, mindful of her rank, chattering on and on about the weather and the latest gossip in court. Almasi hadn’t taken the same precautions; after all, as far as he knew, she was just a maid. Surprisingly, Emma had found she quite liked it.

Before departing, the doctor had told her she could find breakfast in the galley if she so wished. When Emma had reminded him she was a prisoner and couldn’t really roam the ship, Almasi had turned around and asked her in his cultured, accented voice with no hint of any mockery, “Well, why not? There is nowhere you could escape to, Miss Swan, so it makes no sense to confine you to your cabin.”

And with those matter-of-fact words, the doctor had gone, leaving the door wide open as if to make his point. Emma, however, had hurried to close it as soon as she had heard his footsteps fade in the corridor. With the door open, she was free to go, true. But others were also free to come in. And she didn’t want to see anyone – not yet, at least.

_Especially not Hook_.

At that thought, Emma had felt a chill go down her spine as the events of the night before came back to haunt her. Every time she tried to rationalize what had happened, images of Hook transforming flashed before her eyes in excruciating detail. The noise Gill’s head had made as he had torn it off his neck wouldn’t leave her mind either. Tears came to Emma’s eyes as she realized in what dire straits she now found herself. Her situation somehow kept getting worse and worse, ever since she had put on that damned medallion.

_Which is why she had to calm herself and think_ , the princess thought determinedly. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself. She had been trained all her life in diplomacy; this situation wasn’t that different, was it? It was just that the stakes were a little… higher than the usual diplomatic blunders she had to look out for.

Just her life; that was all.

She had to concentrate on the facts. What did she know? The pirates had kidnapped her because they needed the last coin and someone to sacrifice to break their curse. She was thus important, and this gave her leverage. Apart from the previous night, when they had terrorized her, they also ensured her well-being: she was fed, clothed, had her own cabin and no one had touched her. Whether this was due to some obscure pirate code article, or for some other reason, this also indicated they would not resort to violence. More power to her.

Now, how to use that power.

_~~~~~_

An hour later, with the sun well over the horizon and her stomach rumbling, Emma found herself at the bottom of the ladder leading to the deck, her insides knotting with nerves. She had no idea where the galley was, and she didn’t want to explore the dark corridors on her own. Which left the deck, bathed in sunlight, but full of undead pirates. With some luck, she’d be able to ask the doctor where the galley was, or even maybe the pirate with the red hat – Smee, was it?

She could hear the normal noises you would expect to hear on a ship trickling down from the open trapdoor – orders being shouted, creaking wood, the sails flapping in the wind. The princess took a moment to gather herself, her heart beating erratically in her chest. Emma had no desire to interact with any of the pirates, and not only because they turned into monsters at night. No, it had more to do with the fact that _they wanted to sacrifice her in a dark magic ritual_.

Emma took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself down. They needed her, she told herself again. So until they arrived at their destination, she was as safe as she could be while on a pirate ship. Which, granted, probably didn’t mean much. But  in order to find a way out of her predicament, she had to use the time she had to gather as much information as possible. The princess started to slowly, carefully climb up the ladder, not knowing what to expect as she peeked her head above the opening and looked around her,.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think she were on any regular ship, with sailors attending to their tasks to make sure they arrived safely at their destination. But this was not a normal ship; even if the macabre scene she had seen the previous night was not permanently imprinted on her eyelids every time she closed her eyes, the black planks, sails, and ropes of the ship would tell her something was amiss. And if she raised her eyes to the top of the mainmast, the skull and bones flag floating from its peak would remove all her illusions about this being a normal ship.

Seeing that no one was paying her any attention, focused as they were on their work, Emma gingerly climbed the rest of the way and stood near some barrels, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. From her vantage point near the stern, she could see that there were half a dozen men on deck. She recognized Smee’s red knit hat near the bow, and she thought that the tall bald man pulling on a rope across her might be Fagan, the man who had almost hit her when she had come aboard.

Emma stood in the shadow of the quarterdeck, not far from the steps leading up to it for a few minutes. She didn’t dare turn around or go up the stairs, not wanting to face the ship’s captain yet, despite the stare she could feel burning on the back of her head. She didn’t know how, but she _knew_ it was Hook. Emma didn’t want to think about how she knew that. She instead watched the crew working, trying to reconcile the mundane scene in front of her with the nightmare she had stepped into the previous night. As she was watching a slim pirate swinging on the rigging, apparently checking the various pulleys near the mainmast, a familiar gravelly voice interrupted her contemplation.

“So, the princess deigns to grace us with her presence.”

Emma whipped her head towards Gill, fear taking hold of her again. _They knew_. However, instead of the gloating or angry expression she had expected to see him sporting, she was surprised to see an uncomfortable one that deepened at the alarm he saw on her face. To her bewilderment, the brash, vindictive pirate she had come to know and despise shuffled his feet, looking anywhere but at her, his eyes focusing somewhere behind her before he opened his mouth.

“Look, lovely… It was brought to my attention that my behavior towards you last night was apparently ‘highly inappropriate’ and on ‘the edge of being cruel’,” he began, reciting words that were clearly not his own. “So… yeah. I guess I’m sorry, and I won’t do it again.”

Emma stared at him, completely baffled, her mouth agape. _What on earth had just happened?_ While it was clear that his words had been a repetition of what someone had said to him, his promise had sounded sincere, even if he didn’t seem that contrite.

Gill finally looked directly at Emma when some time had passed with no answer seemingly forthcoming from her. Scowling at her shocked expression, he barked, “What? Do you want me to drop to my knees to beg for your forgiveness as well? Well dream on, sugar, that’s never happening.”

Strangely, his coarse words allowed Emma to find her mental footing again. An antagonistic Gill was easier to deal with than a contrite Gill. She was used to the pirate being hostile; seeing him this sheepish made her… nervous.

“Oh please no. That’s the last thing I need to see,” Emma told him, wrinkling her nose at the mental picture of the pirate kneeling in front of her.

“Good,” Gill said, again looking anywhere but at her.

“Good,” Emma repeated, doing the same, focusing on the barrels next to her as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

The two stood side by side, the silence becoming more and more uncomfortable as the seconds passed, until Emma’s stomach rumbled loudly. For once thankful for the noise, she turned towards the pirate, drawing on all her etiquette training to ask him as politely as she could, “Could you direct me towards the galley, please?”

Gill grunted, and with a jerk of his head, invited her to follow him as he headed towards the trap door. Wordlessly, he led her down the ladder, turning right instead of left. After a few seconds, the stocky man stopped in front of a doorway, gesturing for her to precede him into the room.

Emma stepped inside carefully, looking around for other pirates. She was glad to see the galley empty, the only movement coming from the pots swaying gently on their hooks as waves rocked the ship. The walls, floor and ceiling were the same black as the rest of the ship, lending a very gloomy atmosphere to the windowless room. The only light came from a couple of lanterns swinging over the big table set in the middle of the galley. Curiously, Emma couldn’t help thinking that even though the walls of her cabin were also dark, the sunlight had revealed chestnut reflections in them this morning which had only brightened as the light had increased. Here, however, they were as black as night, seeming to absorb the light despite being made of the same wood.

_Fitting, really_ , Emma thought as Gill brushed past her, heading to what seemed to be the larder. He got out a dish with some meat on it with one hand and grabbed a few pieces of bread in the other before putting them down, gesturing for her to take a seat on the long bench that ran the length of the table.

With a murmured _thank you_ , Emma sat down, struggling shortly with her skirts, and started to eat. She stopped chewing  when she saw the pirate reach for a piece of bread, which he started to munch. Feeling her gaze on him, Gill raised his eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“I thought you weren’t able to eat because of the curse?”

“Nah, we can eat. It’s just that it does nothing for us. We can’t taste it, and it doesn’t sate our hunger,” the pirate answered before taking another bite.

“Then… why eat?” Emma asked, completely flabbergasted.

Gill shrugged, shredding his bread thoughtfully with his hands. “Not everyone does. It’s just… old habits die hard.”

_And it helps you feel human_ , Emma realized, reading between the lines. Emma couldn’t imagine being hungry for days, let alone for hundreds of years. This was worse than Tantalus’ punishment; they could eat, unlike him, but still their suffering did not end. They were truly without hope. Despite her resentment towards Gill, Emma couldn’t help but feel compassion for him. She wouldn’t wish this fate on her worst enemy. Choosing not to voice her thoughts, she instead said, “So that’s why there’s so much food, and how you were able to whip up yesterday’s dinner.”

The pirate snorted, looking at her with an amused smile. This was the first time Emma had seen him without any hint of hostility in his expression, and he looked softer, almost kind. “Well, you can thank the lads who raided the castle. At the prospect of getting the last coin and breaking the curse, they got a little… over enthusiastic in your kitchens. Morons forgot that fresh meat doesn’t hold long enough to get to Black Rock, and neither do fresh vegetables. McCullough was actually relieved when the captain ordered him to cook you a meal, he kept whining about throwing away that much food.”

Emma smiled wanly, continuing to eat as Gill spoke, filing away the information that their trip would be at least several days. _Granny must be_ furious _they touched her kitchen_ , she thought, her smile widening. Imagining the matron cursing the pirates out when she realized her larders had been raided entertained Emma as footsteps sounded in the corridor.

The princess’ shoulders stiffened, making her realize with surprise that at some point during her conversation with Gill, she had relaxed. Half-expecting to see Hook, Emma turned towards the door, but she had never seen the man who stepped in the doorway. His blue eyes, set in a weathered face, were framed by deep laugh lines, and his thick red beard covered the bottom of his face and part of his neck. He looked at Gill briefly before focusing on her, his accent making his voice surprisingly melodious.

“Everything alright, love? Gill here treatin’ you right?”

_What is it with these pirates and calling me everything but my name?_ Emma thought, miffed. Out loud, she answered the newcomer briefly, choosing to be prudent and not make any waves. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Did he apologize? Did you apologize, you stupid lout?” he pressed, his accent getting thicker as he addressed Gill, looking at him in disapproval. Gill huffed, grumbling about _bossy bastards_ as he started munching on his bread.

“Yes, he did,” Emma answered for him, looking between the two men curiously. She was missing something, some piece of information.

“He did? Good. What he did last night was completely inappropriate, lass, despite his grudge. Which is totally unjustified in the first place,” he finished, looking pointedly at his crewmate. His wording made Emma realize that she had been right, and Gill’s apology had not been spontaneous. The ginger pirate seemed to have quite the sway over his crewmate.

“Did you want something, Mr. Evans, or would you like to continue berating me?” Gill barked without much bite. He looked almost… fond? Honestly, they sounded like an old couple, Emma thought, observing their bickering.

“Eh, you know you love me,” Evans replied, smirking at Gill.

“I often wonder why,” the seated pirate grumbled.

_Oh_ , Emma realized. They _were_ a couple. Looking down at her plate, Emma wondered why _Evans_ loved _Gill_ . _Guess Papa was right, and love does make us blind_ , she thought bemusedly, not understanding how anyone could love a man so brash. Although that glimpse she had gotten earlier of a softer man...

“Of course you do,” Evans said, before turning towards Emma. “If you’re finished eating, lass, the captain is waiting for you.”

_Oh boy, here we go._

~~~~~

The captain’s quarters looked different in the daylight. While still dim because of the dark walls, the portholes lining one side of the cabin let the morning light pour into the room, dispelling the shadows that had seemed so overwhelming the night before.

Hook sat at his desk, clad in black from head to toe. As soon as Evans ushered Emma in the room, the captain stood up, his hand going to his belt buckle. Now that he stood in broad daylight, she could see that his hair was not completely black, and that his beard held ginger hues, breaking his monochromatic look. Emma stayed near the door once it had closed, leaving the table between the pirate and herself.

“Swan,” Hook greeted, smiling at her thinly. “Did you sleep well?”

Her frosty look must have been answer enough, as his smile faded quickly and he cleared his throat.

“Right,” he said scratching behind his ear. The movement attracted Emma’s gaze to his palm. She could still vividly remember the previous night when she had thrust her knife into his hand, the blade slicing through flesh and tendons before sinking into the tabletop. Looking down quickly, she could see the stab mark in the table, but, try as she might, she could see no trace of a mark on Hook’s hand, even now that it was resting again on his belt buckle.

“If you’re looking for a reminder of when you… _nailed_ me to the table, Swan, you won’t find anything,” Hook said, raising his eyebrow and licking his lips slowly when Emma looked back at his face.

The princess shifted on her feet, troubled by his salacious expression before she processed his words. “I didn’t nail you to the table, I used a knife,” she told him, frowning. _What was he talking about?_

The pirate blinked, looking out of his depth for a second before he cleared his throat again.

“Anyway, no mark, as you can see,” he rallied, showing her his hand first palm up, then palm down while taking a step forward. His tanned skin indeed seemed unmarred. If not for the gash in the table, she could have thought that she had dreamt the whole scene.

Emma looked at his hand until he dropped it to the table, leaning forward. “I think there might have been a slight misunderstanding between us last night, lass,” Hook told her, trying to catch her gaze.

“I don’t see what there is to misunderstand about needing a blood sacrifice to end your curse,” Emma snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “The fact you intend to kill me leaves nothing to interpretation.” _Only how you intend to do it_ , she thought, a shiver running down her spine.

“That’s where the misunderstanding is, Swan. We’re not going to kill you,” Hook told her, before gesturing to a chair with his hook. “Sit down, love, so that I can explain.”

“Oh please, don’t try to placate me! Dark magic always requires a high price, there is no way I’ll walk out of this ritual unharmed,” Emma snapped, choosing to remain standing. _What kind of idiot does he take me for?_

“You said you can tell when people lie to you. Well, Swan, have I told you a lie?”

Emma pursed her lips, frustrated that she could not say that he had. But it made no sense – he hadn’t lied either the previous night, and he had told her… _Had he though? Or had her imagination run away from her, fueled by her fear?_ The princess raised her head, locking gazes with the pirate captain. With a short, jerky shake of her head, she indicated that no, he hadn’t lied to her.

“See? Then _sit_ ,” he commanded, the former request turning into an order as he took a chair, looking up at her expectantly.

Not looking away from his face, Emma pulled over a chair from across from where he sat before plopping down on it. If there was a time to draw on all her diplomacy training, then this was it. The princess took a deep breath, which helped to center her. “I’m sitting. Now explain.”

“The blood sacrifice we’re asking of you is in no way life-threatening,” Hook began, “Blood magic does not require the death of the offering; hell, it doesn’t always mean the spilling of blood at all. In this particular ritual, all we need is a very small quantity of blood.”

“Then if you need so little, why bring me with you? Couldn’t you have taken it from me in Misthaven and released me?” Emma asked, ashamed to hear a whine in her voice.

“Because the ritual is very particular and demands blood freshly spilled.”

For the first time in their conversation, Emma could feel he was not entirely honest. _He’s holding something back_ , she thought. “You’re not telling me everything. What are you trying to hide?”

Hook sighed, although he didn’t seem particularly upset with her. “Quite perceptive, aren’t you? Aye, you’re right, there is something else. The blood must be willingly given. We can’t take it by force.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked incredulously. “What is this curse? Why not use someone from your crew?”

“Because we all have already given our blood. Yours is the last ingredient we need to break the curse. Well, that and the last coin,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Emma asked abruptly. Hook was giving her incredible leverage. He was far from an idiot, so why was he being so straightforward?

“Because we need your help, Swan,” Hook said, “And to deceive you to get it would be bad form.”

“So kidnapping me is not bad form, but lying to me is. You have twisted standards, you know that, right?”

A shadow crossed Hook’s face before he leant forward, his voice low. “Understand something, Swan. For three hundred years we have searched for a cure for this curse. Now that we’re so near our goal, we are getting _desperate_ to be free, and we’re not afraid to take a few shortcuts.”

“And what shortcuts will you take to gain my compliance?”

Hook chuckled, “Oh, I have no illusions about ‘gaining your compliance,’ lass, I know you’re too strong-headed for that. No, what I’m trying to earn is your _cooperation_.”

“And how do you intend to earn it?”

“By answering your questions. No trickery, no deception.”

Emma leant back in her chair, considering the pirate and his words. All her assumptions were being turned on their heads since she had stepped foot on this ship. Since she was stuck in this situation until she could find a way to escape, she might as well get as much information as she could.

“Alright then. First question: let’s say I help you break the curse. Will you take me back unharmed to Misthaven?”

“Well, I’m not sure it would be a good idea for us to sail right into the bay, but I’ll get you home safe – or as close to home as I can.”

He was sincere. He did seem to have some sort of ‘good form,’ as he put it.

“Right. Next question. How did you end up cursed? Did you get punished for stealing from the wrong person?”

“In a way, yes, although not in the way you think. What you must know is that this ship was not always a pirate ship, and this crew were not always pirates. We used to belong to the Braesal Navy.”

“Wait– Braesal? But that kingdom disappeared hundreds of years ago!”

“Aye, it did.”

“But that would make you…”

“More than three hundred years old, aye. But this is not the first time I’ve told you.”

He was right: he had told her just a few minutes ago, but she had swept the fact to the side, focusing instead on the curse and her apparent imminent death. Emma watched the pirate carefully. He didn’t look three hundred years old. In fact, he barely looked a handful of years older than her. But then, Emma remembered what he had looked like the night before, emerging from the hatch into the moonlight. She could believe _that_ Hook was three hundred years old. A three hundred year old corpse, to be precise.

Suppressing a shiver as she remembered the previous night, Emma nodded at Hook, conceding his point. “Okay, but what does Braesal have to do with the curse? I thought you said it was from Agrabah?”

“As I was trying to tell you, we used to be in the Navy,” Hook began, “The _Roger_ was called the _Jewel of the Realm_ then, and my brother Liam was its captain. Our admiral, the King’s brother, ordered Liam to retrieve a chest, promising its contents would help end the war that was suffocating our kingdom. So we did,” the captain said, chuckling bitterly while playing with the tip of his hook. “But the weasel had lied. He wanted the chest because of a legend that said whoever owned it became immortal. He wanted to use it to overthrow his brother, you see. We tried to stop him, but for our efforts Liam was killed, and the prince had me imprisoned. After he took a little souvenir, that is,” he smiled sarcastically, waving his hook in the air, chilling Emma once she understood he meant his hand. “The crew freed me with the help of a palace guard, and we took the chest back as our severance pay, as well as the _Jewel_.”

Emma listened to him intently. She had studied the fall of the Braesal kingdom when she had been a child. She remembered that the last king, Brendan, had orchestrated a coup against his older brother. The Mad King, as he had been known, had reigned for three short years before being captured by the joint forces of Misthaven and Camelot when they had taken the capital. He had died a few months later, murdered by one of his former officers.

“So that tells me how you became a pirate, not how you were cursed. If owning the chest made you cursed, then how come the King was not? I’m pretty sure a king transforming into a skeleton at night would have been quite hard to miss.”

“Turns out the the prince’s Agrabhese wasn’t quite up to par. _Owning_ the chest was not sufficient to be cursed. You had to take coins from it for the magic to take.”

“So he didn’t?”

“No. I guess planning to murder your brother to take his throne must be quite time-consuming, luckily for us.”

Emma privately agreed. Thank the gods Brendan hadn’t gained immortality. If someone power-hungry enough to kill his own flesh and blood had become invincible, what would the world look like today?

“So you and your crew took the coins.”

“Aye, we did. After all, what better way to take our revenge on the King than by spending his precious gold to wage war against him?”

Emma blinked. What did he mean, wage war? Then she remembered that the reason Camelot and Misthaven had been able to invade Braesal had been that the latter’s navy had been so weakened by pirate attacks that the two allies had been able to navigate straight into the capital’s harbor. But surely he didn’t mean...

“You took part in the Pirate War?” she asked in disbelief.

“If by taking part you mean engineering it, then aye,” Hook told her, raising an eyebrow at her tone.

“You engineered– _you_ were in the _Pirate War_ ,” she said, completely in awe and forgetting her situation for a minute. She remembered reading accounts of the conflict, the naval battles, the boardings, the battles to the death. _And he had been in them_. But then, if he had spent the coins...

“If you spent all the coins, then how come no one else was cursed?” Emma asked, secretly wondering how come _she_ hadn’t been cursed.

“Only people who take coins directly from the chest are cursed,” Hook answered, staring at her with amusement, “so don’t worry yourself, you’re quite safe.”

“I know I’m safe, I’d have noticed turning into a monster at night,” Emma snapped, miffed that he’d somehow divined her thoughts. But then something he’d said a couple of times finally registered. “Wait – if you need the blood of the original thieves… what do you need me for? I’ve never taken anything from that chest.”

“Well… you haven’t, Swan. But do you remember that palace guard I mentioned earlier?”

Emma blinked, baffled by the non-sequitur. “Er… yes?”

“Well, after he helped us escape from the castle, we took him onboard the Roger. Pirate life didn’t suit him, and he had a young lass waiting for him, so after a few days he went home, but not without a little parting gift from the chest,” Hook explained, getting the coin out of a pocket in his waistcoat. “When we knew what we had to do to break the curse, we realized one of the “thieves” was missing, and we figured it had to be him. However, when we came back to the village we had dropped him off at, he was long gone, chased by the war. We searched for him, but only managed to find his wife, who told us he had disappeared one day, and that she had never seen him again.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with me,” Emma interrupted. Why was he telling her all this?

“Because while we never heard from McEala again, he’d had a son with his wife before disappearing. And that son had two sons, who had children of their own. And so on and so on, until we get to you, love. You are the last descendant of Ian McEala, Swan.”

Oh. Oh no. Emma realized with horror that their plan hinged on her _actually_ being McEala’s great-great-grandchild. Which she definitely was not; as a royal, her bloodline had been carefully traced back five hundred years, ever since her family acceded to the throne. And there was definitely _no_ Braesal guard among her ancestry.

“But how can you be sure I’m the one you’re looking for?” she asked, a little desperately.

“Well, for one, you had the coin,” Hook started to list, “second, we always kept an eye on the McEala family’s whereabouts, even when searching for the other coins. We lost them about ten years ago, though, when the ship they were on exploded.”

Emma felt a shiver go down her spine. “You were actually there, I didn’t imagine it,” she blurted out, leaning back in her chair. “It was you, you attacked the ship!”

Hook’s gaze grew dark at her words. “We certainly did not,” he bit out. “While we were approaching to board to get your father, the ship exploded. We don’t know what happened, though we suspect an idiot blew up the powder reserve. We would have come nearer, but then another ship approached, and we couldn’t stay without being discovered. We thought the McEala line was extinct, until the other night, when you told us your name.”

“But my name is Swan,” Emma protested, “and you said your guard was called McEala.”

“Ah, but my dear, don’t you know what Eala means in old Braelish?” Hook asked with a smirk. Emma looked at him, thinking hard, before she realized. Henry’s blanket, embroidered with swans, prompting her to name him after them. It had been decorated thus because...

“Aye, it means swan, love,” the pirate finished her thought, seeing the realization on her face.

Emma suddenly felt overwhelmed. Only a couple of hours ago, she had thought that her life had been in a downward spiral ever since she had put the medallion on – was that only two days ago? But she was coming to realize that events had been set in motion more than ten years ago, when she had taken the necklace from Henry’s blanket. And now here she was, prisoner on a pirate ship whose captain believed her capable of breaking their curse. But she couldn’t, she realized with growing alarm.

“Swan? Swan!” Hook’s voice came from afar, bringing her back to reality. The touch of his hand on her shoulder snapped her back to her senses as she jumped up and away from him. _How had she not noticed him getting up and walking around the table?_ she thought wildly as she backed away until one of the sturdy chairs was between them.

Hook watched her warily, his hand now resting on the back of the chair she had been sitting on. Emma was thankful to note that he made no move towards her, as her heart slowed down to a normal rhythm.

“Are you alright, lass?” the captain asked, his blue eyes fixed on her face. It was eerie, now that he had moved out of the direct sunlight, how his hair and beard appeared once again black, his blue eyes the only spots of color on his whole being. They seemed to glow as Hook waited for her answer, his features cast in sharp contrast as he tilted his head, his eyebrow slowly rising as her silence lengthened.

Watching him, Emma couldn’t ignore how striking he looked; she shivered, for a reason she did not want to acknowledge. It was getting cold, that was all. Hook however straightened, his brow furrowing in consternation as he took a step forward, stopping when he saw Emma stiffen.

“You don’t have to worry, Swan. I know we didn’t meet under the best circumstances,” he began, causing Emma to raise her eyebrow in disbelief. That was quite the understatement, after all. “But I promise you we’ll take you home once we’re free of this curse. And the blood giving ceremony is not that dreadful, it’s just that you’ll have to give twice more than we did because you’re not the original – no, that’s not what I meant!” the captain backtracked, hearing her gasp and seeing the look of horror on her face as Emma felt her heart jump in her chest. “The ceremony requires three drops, so you’d only have to give six. Word of honor, Swan, that’s all we ask of you.”

Emma turned her head towards the window, biting her lip in thought. All he had said had rung true, but since boarding his ship all her beliefs and assumptions had been proven wrong. What was to say her lie detector wasn’t going awry too?

The princess also found she couldn’t stop challenging Hook. Apart from the fact he had kidnapped her, he had given her no reason to doubt him; she had her own room, had been fed twice now, and he had never lied to her. He did seem to be in earnest; he just wanted to be free from the curse which had plagued him and his crew for three centuries. Maybe that was the problem; he was making it too easy to trust him.

Emma also realized that out of the two of them, she was the deceiving one. But what was she supposed to do? Tell Hook the truth? At best she would be held for ransom, and at worst she’d be made to walk the plank. She had no choice, she had to continue this charade, at least for the moment.

As she had been thinking, Emma had been unconsciously rubbing her arms. She realized she had been doing so when Hook cleared his throat, sounding closer than she expected. As she whipped her head back towards him, she saw that he had sneaked up on her once again. Although, instead of standing close to her, he was standing at an arm’s length – literally, in this case, as his right arm was stretched out towards her, his coat hanging from his hand.

The princess looked at the pirate in surprise, not understanding. She also noted how he kept not only his distance, but his hooked arm away from her, trying to appear as harmless as possible. He wasn’t very successful, but Emma appreciated the effort nonetheless.

“You seemed cold,” Hook merely said in response to her questioning look, shaking the coat gently, encouraging her to take it.

Emma took it gratefully, preferring to hide her thoughts behind this excuse. Plus, it was getting cooler in the cabin, especially for someone who had been used to the sweltering heat of a Misthaven summer, and who was only wearing a light dress.

“Thank you,” she said softly, putting the heavy coat over her shoulders, getting surrounded in the captain’s smell. Strangely enough, she could feel no warmth coming from the garment, even though he must have had taken it off his own body not more than a minute before.

“You’re welcome,” he answered just as softly, looking at her with an odd expression for an instant, before blinking quickly and taking a step back. “Although you’ll be needing warmer clothes as we travel up north, lass. There are some in the hold, I’ll take you there.”

–--

Emma ducked her head as she entered the hold, Hook’s lantern casting dancing shadows as it swung from his namesake. With yet another shiver, this reminded Emma of the ghastly lights that the harbor fire had cast on the castle walls. Was her family okay? How many casualties had there been? She hoped David and her father were safe, and that they were with Henry. Gods, she even had time to wish for _Cassidy_ to be okay before Hook interrupted her thoughts.

“If you turn left behind that crate, lass, you’ll find where we stashed the clothes,” he guided her, pointing over her shoulder to a large crate full of dinnerware.

Emma followed his instructions, advancing slowly as the heavy coat swished against her legs. The light fell on three chests full of garments, both masculine and feminine. Some of the dresses seemed familiar to her, especially that light blue one at the back. It looked like…

“Wait, did those clothes comes from m– the castle?” she snapped, turning towards Hook, who was leaning against the pile of crates on which he had put the lantern.

The captain smirked, spreading his arms. ”Pirate, love, _of course_ they did. What, do you expect me to carry a whole wardrobe around in case I need to clothe a pretty lass?”

The princess rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore his last comment as she turned back towards the clothes. She was mad, that blue dress was one of her favorites. Emma quickly realized that she had to be careful in her choice of clothes. Not only had he mentioned them going North (something she would dwell on later in the privacy of her cabin), but she was supposed to be a maid. What would Hook think if she went for her usual fabrics and cuts? She didn’t want to take any risks.

Searching through the chests, she saw from the corner of her eye a fourth one, apart from the others, full of women’s clothes which seemed to come from the servants quarters. Before she could take two steps towards it, Hook stopped her.

“Not this one, lass, that’s part of Allen’s bounty.”

“What does a pirate want with women’s clothes?” Emma blurted out, completely baffled. “Wait, I don’t want to know,” she hurriedly added after a second’s thought. She wasn’t sure she could take another shock today, she thought, resolutely ignoring images of dancing skeletons wearing lacy dresses and bonnets.

Hook chuckled, however, mirth dancing in his eyes at her reaction. “It’s nothing like that, lass. His descendant is getting married in two days’ time, and he’s taken that chest to complete her _trousseau_.”

Emma nodded before turning back towards the chests, wanting to hide her face from the captain. Just when she thought the pirate couldn’t surprise her anymore, he managed to find a new way to do so. They had families? Did they know about the curse, or that they were pirates? Emma wondered as she rifled through a chest, finally finding an outfit simple enough for her persona, and warm enough for colder temperatures. A couple more minutes provided her with a cloak, and even with clean stockings. Search as she might, however, but she couldn’t find any shoes. After her trek to the ship, and the last two days, her slippers were the worse for wear, and were definitely too slippery to walk on the damp planks of the deck.

As always Hook seemed to be able to read her mind, as a pair of boots landed near her, his voice ringing in the empty hold. “I think these might be your size, you’d better check though.”

After close inspection of the boots, Emma privately agreed, but the pirate was right, she needed to try them on. Sitting down on a closed crate, she leant down to remove her slippers before suddenly looking at Hook, who was watching her with a smile on his face. “Do you mind?” she snapped. He had already seen her in her nightgown, she certainly wasn’t about to let him see her bare legs.

The captain raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he made a show of turning his back to her. Emma hurried to try on the boots. While she felt a slight pinch at the level of her toes, they were fine, and would adjust to her feet with a little time; after all, it’s not like she could call the court cobbler to make her a new custom pair. She would have to make do.

––-

A couple of hours later, Emma sat in her cabin, dressed in her new breeches and shirt, fiddling with the laces of her vest as she remembered the last words she had shared with Hook. After they had come back to her cabin, just before she’d stepped through the threshold, the pirate captain had caught her arm, turning the princess to face him.

“Swan… Emma,” he had begun, watching her earnestly, “I know all of this is a lot to take in, and that you have no reason to help us but… can we count on your cooperation?”

“I…” Emma had stuttered, flustered at being so close to him.

Before she could gather her wits enough to answer him, he had plowed on, eager to persuade her. “With the coin in your possession, you are the last piece to free us from this curse, so that we can live our lives. I know it’s a lot to ask, but we… _I_ need you, Swan.”

Emma hadn’t needed her lie detector to know he was telling the truth; his eyes had been imploring, passionate in their plea. How could she say no to him?

So she hadn’t. She’d nodded, and had been rewarded by a smile – a true smile, nothing smirky about it – and a squeeze of her arm, before he’d let her go inside her cabin.

And now here she was, consumed by nerves and something that felt a lot like guilt. Even though she was still afraid of the _Black Roger’_ s crew, she couldn’t help but pity them now that she knew about their plight. _And to think they’d endured it for three centuries..._ she thought with horror. Through her few interactions with them that day, she’d seen a human side to them: the obvious affection between Gill and Evans, Allen’s family…

As for the captain of the ship, she didn’t know how she felt about him. Each time she thought about the previous night, his monstrous transformation, that picture was now replaced in her mind by his earnest eyes and brilliant smile of relief when she had accepted to help.

And that was exactly what was causing her feeling of guilt. Because ultimately, the captain’s hopes would be dashed. She wasn’t the one he needed; that was Henry. And that fact would quickly come to light when they performed the ceremony, and nothing happened.

Although… Hook had said that the curse needed the blood of those that had stolen the coins… And wasn’t that what she’d done? She had stolen the medallion from Henry, so maybe the curse had somehow transferred to her? Despite not being a direct descendant of McEala, maybe she could still break the curse, and free Hook and his crew.

She wanted to help them – and she hoped that she could, because she didn’t dare imagine the consequences if she failed.


End file.
